She stopped thinking and rested her head on his broad shoulders. The time with Ray had helped. Johnny had called her his girl. Normally, that would be enough to send her sailing. Now, it just felt nice. “I have to—”
“No, you don’t hafta do nothing. It’s late. Do ya know what time it is?”
She didn’t and listened as he told her exactly what she would do. “No arguments. Nothin’ worse than a gal who doesn’t know when to listen.”
She let him lead her past the nurse’s station. She was mentally exhausted. He insisted he’d see to whatever needed to get done after he took her home. The past few days had taken their toll. First Rosie, then Ray and now Meg…this loss too horrible to believe. And, Johnny, he was bossy, but it felt real good to have someone strong to lean on for a change.
12 CHAPTER TWELVE
“Phew, shopping is work, but I adore it, don’t you,” asked Hannah, smiling as she and Rosie lugged their shopping bags home. “I’m so glad you could meet me today.” Anything to avoid thinking about the unthinkable, acknowledging the fear that threatened to overwhelm her the moment she put words to it.
Rosie wore a pearl-lined matching bandanna tied around her head and large pearl clip earrings that used to be Meg’s. Always colorful with her red hair, red lipstick and pink cheeks, she looked chic in a stylish olive green and red dress. She studied Hannah consideringly and shrugged. “Well, I’ve been ignoring everything and everybody, ’ceptin’ Mikey but I have missed you. It’s so strange Meggie’s gone three months already. That we can’t just ring her up, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Hannah, her smile fading. “It’s shocking how one moment you’re here, alive and gone the next.” Mama’s hammering of the bible and Ecclesiastes 9:5 echoed in her head. ‘Will your wonders be made known in the darkness? And your righteousness in the land of forgetfulness?’ Death meant no more hope. No more chances. No more time. Since Meg’s tragic passing, weeks blew by in a blur, which was why Hannah hadn’t noticed some things she should have noticed.
“I was touched when Alec insisted we each keep something special of Meg’s for ourselves.” She’d kept an enameled and jeweled butterfly box with a matching brooch.
“Yeah, me too, poor fella. He really was torched by her loss. What’s up? You seem distracted, kiddo.”
“Tired, that’s all,” said Hannah nervously biting her lip. She quickly changed the subject. “But, married life sure agrees with you and Mike. He was going on and on about your new house. He looks so happy. So do you.”
Taking off her coat and sitting down, Rosie said, “Yeah, who would have thunk it, me shackled and happy to boot? Hey, but you modeled for a Woodbury soap advertisement and a song sheet, that’s swell. Maybe you’ll become famous and rich yet?”
Hannah smiled wryly, joining Rosie on the couch. “For fifty cents a sketch definitely not rich, but enough to not have to find a roommate and to keep my options open for another month or two.” Who was she kidding? Seymour’s money wouldn’t last forever, especially if she kept spending it like water. “I mean Tony’s is okay, but not The Jefferson, if you know what I mean.”
“So any new prospects yet?”
“No, but I haven’t been looking either.” And, there might never be prospects for me now.
“Well, it’s been a rough few months, but something will surface I’m sure. Meanwhile, what’s shaking with that handsome New Yorker of yours?” Rosie wiggled her brows suggestively. “Spill, dearie.”
Hannah shrugged. “There isn’t anything to spill. “Truth is, I don’t know.”
Rosie looked flabbergasted. “What do you mean? The hot looks he gives you could melt glass. And, the way he hovers over you, always popping up when you need him, I’d say it’s clear he’s got it for you.”
“Yeah, he’s great but…” Hannah deflated. There was no easy way out of this terrible situation. “He’s away a lot on business.”
“Hey, business—shmisness,” said Rosie, clicking her tongue. “When a fella like that kisses you, if that ain’t enough to steam your cup, I don’t know what is.”
Hannah giggled in spite of herself, amused by Rosie’s turn of a phrase. “Oh, he’s steamed my cup all right, but he’s…a…a gentleman.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, but he acts like I’m made of porcelain. One second I’m sure he’d like nothin’ more than to devour me whole, the next he’s got me on some sort of pedestal way up high.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” said Rosie picking at some lint on her dress. “What do you care if he thinks you’re some sort of angel as long as he’s a devil in the sack?”
Hannah remained suspiciously quiet.
Rosie’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done the deed with that gorgeous hunk of man?”
Only Rosie could be so blunt and nosy. “We haven’t,” admitted Hannah telling her she’d never felt less in control where a man was concerned before. “We came close a few times, but he always thinks better of it. Says it isn’t the time or the place.”
“Are you sure he’s not some pantywaist in disguise. A nance?”
“Yes,” snorted Hannah immediately. “He’s just respectful and controlled and we haven’t really had much time together alone. As I said, he’s a busy fella and he travels a lot.”
Rosie lifted an eyebrow, tutting in dismay. “Nothing like a bout of good monkey sex to make a man a devoted slave for life, Han. Keeps ’em closer to the home fires, if you know what I mean.” She winked saucily. “You need to remedy the situation right away. Shame on you!”
“With Meg’s dyin’—”
“Meggie would hardly want us to stop living. Hell, Hannah, she’d want you to live it up even more…for her as well as yourself.”
“Agreed, but the last thing on my mind is making whoppee right now.”
“That’s terrible. I can’t imagine anything that would prevent you from not wanting to bed that gorgeous fella, especially if he knots your rope. Are you sure you’re okay, hon?”
Rosie’s look of concern was her undoing. Hugging her knees to her chest, the tears straining her eyes burst forth like a dam. “Oh, Rosie, I am stupid, dumb and an idiot to boot! I’m gonna lose everything I’ve worked so hard for.” She sobbingly confessed about Ray but avoided mentioning the rape. “I was horrified when he showed up but we had it out…really talked about some things we didn’t resolve from the past. Heck, it was clear we both had suffered and I realized despite everything, we still cared for one another. I invited him to spend the day and it was special—healing and before I knew it, I was in his arms. We enjoyed one another and that somehow made it easier to say goodbye, but now I am going to have to pay the piper for sure…” Wiping her eyes, she told Rosie she was pregnant.
Rosie blinked. “Oh dear. You sure? You hardly look it.”
Glum, Hannah said she was. “My monthlies have never been regular, but the way I’ve been feeling forced me to go to the doctor last week. Truth is, I’m at least three months gone, which means November unless…something happens to rid me of this horror, this parasite growing inside me. I’m a coward. I don’t want a baby and I don’t want to die like Meg. I’m stuck—ruined—trapped.”
Rosie patted her hair visibly aggrieved. “Have you tried drinking castor oil, or bathing in hot water?”
“Three nights in a row, but it just made me sick as a dog and didn’t change a thing. What am I going to do?” She didn’t really expect Rosie to know. “Even if I wanted this, which I don’t, the poor kid is stained for life, illegitimate. I should jump into the river and kill myself.”
“No!” Rosie squeezed her hands to console her, and got up to get her purse. She lit a cigarette, blowing out the smoke and threw one at Hannah. “Look, try to calm down. It’s a tough break. Not a cakewalk, but we’ll figure something out.”
“What? There is no good solution.” Hannah kept shaking her head, but found a match and lit the cigarette. “My life is over. Johnny won’t have anythi
ng to do with me when he finds out. And when my money runs out I won’t be able to take care of myself, let alone some kid.” Exhaling, her shoulders shook with sobs. “Rosie, why’d this have to happen?”
Rosie hugged her, empathy lining her face. She told Hannah she’d have to decide whether she intended to keep the baby, or give it up for adoption.
Hannah’s eyes widened. “Of course, I want to give it away. I can’t take care of a kid, or be tied down worryin’ about one. I have to figure out how to take care of myself, my career.”
“Maybe you should call the father, Ray. Maybe he’ll take it?”
“Absolutely not!” Hannah paled, appalled by the idea. “If Mama ever suspected, it’d ruin things for him. That farm is everything to Ray—everything. And, I wouldn’t condemn a kid to a lonely life like I had, no brothers or sister, nothin’ but work.”
Rosie chewed her bottom lip intensely. “There’s this place called the Willows Sanatorium on Main. I knew a girl went there and it’s reputable. They shelter girls who get in trouble. They help them until they give birth and even find families to adopt their kids. I don’t know what it costs, or how you get in, but we’ll find out. If they’ll take you in, you can wait it out there until…you don’t have to let Johnny know a thing. You weren’t even dating him then…maybe you tell Tony you’re going home for awhile to tend your sick mother? Mike and I could be the only ones who really know where you are.”
Hannah flinched. “Somehow I can’t see Johnny believing that. He heard about Ray’s visit from Tony and asked me about it. I was adamant about never going back home.”
Rosie shook her finger at her. “Well, you can say you’re going away to Europe but you’ve got to say something.”
“Obviously.” Hannah sighed, wringing her hands. “Either way, I’ll lose Johnny and he’s the only fella I’ve ever felt something special for besides Ray.”
Rosie stabbed her cigarette into the ashtray. “You could tell him the truth.”
Hannah swallowed hard, her heart beating fast enough to fly. Could she tell Johnny the whole ugly truth? Risk his censure, his distaste and his disrespect. For sure, she’d topple headlong off the pedestal he’d placed her on. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her.
“Hey, if he wants you bad enough, he might understand.” Rosie rolled her eyes. “It ain’t like you slept with him and got pregnant by someone else while you were an item or something. Besides, what have you got to lose?”
1921
“He selleth an end to darkness and searcheth out all perfection.”
Job 18:3.6
13 CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The clink of crystal, chit-chat and laughter engulfed Johnny Gallo. Row after row and stacked like sardines, hungry travelers packed the dining car of the train. “Thanks Whitey, a deuce for the trouble. Keep the traffic down my end of the train, will ya?”
“I’ll do my best, Mr. G,” answered the blue capped waiter, his nut brown color incongruous with his name. With a silver tray in hand he handed out canapés.
“You’re good people, Whitey, thanks.” Johnny took the bag and hid it under his arm. He tipped his hat, a gentle tug of the brim and threw some bills at him. Whitey not missing a beat stuffed them into his uniform pocket with a grin. Johnny liked his audacity.
“Hey, that’s some dish you’ve got stashed back there, Mr. G,” he said. “And, I ain’t talking supper dish neither.”
Because Whitey always saw him traveling alone before, Johnny didn’t take offense to the remark. “Yeah, she is quite fine, thanks.”
Johnny scanned the crowded aisles, skimming over a multitude of faces. His razor sharp senses recognized important details; escape routes, who was packing, who wasn’t. He was wired to smell the presence of a fed, a copper, an enemy and a friend. And, as ingrained a habit as breathing he noticed valuables, who had them, who didn’t. An eye for detail was the blessing and bane of any good crook.
Navigating the gyrating train, he stopped at a berth with two facing booths enclosed in glass. Johnny moved quickly, careful not to drop the vintage 1890 bottle of wine hidden under his arm. The train was heading from Kansas City Missouri to Chicago, to the gray, cold and sometimes forbidding Lake Michigan area.
Life was swell, his cards flush. Seven months before, Hannah had shocked him when she said she had a bun cooking in the oven. It certainly wasn’t his, but already dizzy for the dame and unwilling to lose her he’d footed the bills for a private nurse, sticking by her side even when she would have pushed him away. The child had been frail, a tiny boy with a solemn face, dark hair and cloudy green eyes. As for Hannah, she’d worked through her seventh month without anyone the wiser. She went into private confinement the last two months. He’d respected her wishes for distance and space. She hadn’t wanted him to see her like that, but when she’d fallen deathly ill from complications of an early labor, nothing kept him from her side. A virulent fever had her hovering between life and death for weeks after the birth. In her delirium she’d confirmed the identity of the father, although he’d already suspected who it was. He’d wanted her bad enough to push aside any doubts. The past was the past and when she’d agreed to move away with him, everything was how it should be. He was her future and they would make a new start together.
The windy city was more his style, big city, big opportunities, more like home, not KC where he’d felt like an exile, though no one could say he hadn’t made the most of it. Papa Johnny Torrio, Alphonse Capone, Greasy, Stinky, Little New York, Slicer were famiglia—blood, New York his neighborhood. But many of the old gang were in Chicago now as was his future with his girl—his, the beautiful songbird with sapphire eyes, Hannah.
She wasn’t aware he was back. He drank in her profile. Despite her ordeal, the loss of her best friend, a difficult birth, the adoption, she was even more desirable to him. Though she hadn’t hesitated about giving the kid up, she’d worried the kid should go to a kind, loving and large family. He’d assured her that he’d take care of everything and had. His sister was a nun and as Mother Superior ran a school and orphanage. She would follow his instructions to the letter and would see to his best interests.
Noticing him in the doorway, Hannah greeted him with one of her incredible smiles. She giggled when he pulled the glass enclosure shut and took the wine from his coat. He further surprised her by producing two long stemmed goblets from each pocket. It was the first time they’d been alone together since she got out of the hospital.
Her voice was as sweet as the angel she resembled. “Oh, Johnny, you’re the butterflies’ boots.”
He shrugged. “Told ya, it’s nothing but good times for us from now on.”
“I like the sound of that,” she said cheerfully, reaching for a cigarette.
“I hate when a dame smokes in public.” His voice sounded harsher than he’d intended.
She jumped up and yanked the curtains closed before turning to catch his eye, winking. “Happy now, Daddy-o?”
He watched speechless as sitting back down, she lit the cigarette anyway. He wasn’t sure if he should admonish her for being disobedient or admire her moxy. He decided that for the moment, he’d better deal with what he could control. He understood that she disliked being told what to do. That would change in time. Suddenly she was stretching, arms wide and body arching. Her breasts strained against the fabric of her dress and he couldn’t think about anything else. Pregnancy had added a becoming roundness to her once too slim frame. No one looking at her would ever suspect she’d just had a child. Her pink cheeks were shining with health, remarkable considering what she’d been through.
He reminded himself to be patient. There was strength in waiting and striking where and when results were guaranteed. The result was he wanted Hannah body and soul. The challenge was that she saw herself as a free and independent woman.
He’d always had an obsessive need to surround himself with beauty. He’d never before wanted a woman as much as he’d wanted respect, status and money,
but he’d been awed by Hannah’s beauty, her talent and her spirit. He liked her quick retorts. Her childlike enthusiasm amused him. The aura of innocent fragility and purity intrigued and in spite of her past, she still was an innocent in many ways.
“Do you believe in destiny?” She patted the seat beside her and pulled her pink dress close to make room for him. “C’mon, tell me more about Chicago.” She let out a whoop, “I can’t believe we’re actually on our way!”
Her joy, her laughter, her light speared through him like a bullet. It lit the darkness inside his blackened soul like the flame on a match. And, what a flair she had. She was excited about every new experience, even this boring, train ride. He almost felt carefree, almost and that alone scared the crap out of him.
“Sorry, doll, I usually don’t talk much.” The tug at the corners of his mouth was unfamiliar. Jesus, he wasn’t a friggin’ clown. He rarely smiled just for the hell of it or without good reason. “Where I come from, too much gabbing ain’t good for the health.”
She clucked her tongue, amused, pleased when he sat down. “Now, with all you know about me already, far too much, it’s only fair I learn about you. We’ve hardly had a chance to talk details with you back and forth to Chicago, me in the hospital.”
“You’re right.” He was surprised she was being so blunt, but he was in the mood to concede. He opened the bottle with his knife and pulled out the cork. He sniffed the cork before pouring the dark ruby colored wine. “First things first, doll. How about a toast to new beginnings—ours?”
They touched glasses and he watched as she delicately sipped the wine.
“A friend of mine, Papa Johnny Torrio’s uncle was named Big Jim Colosimo. He ran a nightclub down on South Wabash Avenue. He changed the name to The Victoria after his wife, a former madam who bought him the joint. He dumped her later for some pretty young showpiece, but not before the place became popular. Ever hear of George M. Cohan or Enrique Caruso?”
The Songbird with Sapphire Eyes Page 16
