The women exchanged pointed glances, and there appeared to be some sort of silent communication going on.
Finally, Eleanor said, "You're right, Olivia. Molly wanted us to talk about something we all did together, something important. It's just been so long since we said it out loud."
"We never said it out loud," Ginnie interjected, drawing accompanying nods from Lucy and Constance.
"What is it?" Olivia asked, beginning to feel like she was finally getting somewhere.
Before any of the ladies could respond, Colton suddenly sat up a little straighter. "None of you has to say a word," he said forcefully. "If you don't want to talk to Olivia, you don't have to. Molly was the one who asked her to come here. It might have been her decision to speak, but that doesn't mean it has to be yours."
Olivia knew he was only protecting his grandmother, but she hated the way he'd put an abrupt stop to what had appeared to be a breakthrough.
Eleanor patted Colton's leg. "Thank you for the reminder, Colton. But actually, what you just said makes me want to talk to Olivia."
Colton frowned and muttered, "Why?"
"Because Molly can't talk, but I still can." Eleanor took a breath, then continued. "You asked about the charity, Olivia. Here's the truth. We used the theater group as a way to raise money to help women who were being abused by their husbands or boyfriends. Forty years ago domestic violence was not talked about the way it is now. And while it's still going on, and there are women still in trouble, there are more resources today. Back then there were very few options."
Olivia edged forward in her seat, anticipation tightening her nerves. "How exactly did you help them?"
"We tried to give them whatever they needed," Eleanor replied. "Every situation was different, but if what they needed was to get out of their home environment, we made that happen."
"You helped women get away from their abusers? How did you do that?"
"We gave them money and helped them plan their escape," Eleanor said.
"You mean, like an underground railroad?" she asked in amazement.
Eleanor nodded. "Yes. It was exactly like that."
Olivia saw the same shock she felt reflected on Colton's face. She'd never imagined that these four old ladies had done something so daring.
"Are you serious, Grandma?" he asked.
"Very serious, dear."
"It started with one person in trouble," Ginnie interjected. "It was a friend of ours. She needed money so she could go to her sister's house. Her husband controlled their bank account. She couldn't access it without his permission."
Olivia couldn't imagine being in that kind of situation, but she was a woman from a different generation.
"Most of us were also on budgets controlled by our husbands," Constance said. "We couldn't take the money out without telling them where it was going."
"And when we did try to tell our husbands, it didn't work," Lucy said. "I told my husband once that I needed to borrow a hundred dollars to help a friend, and he told me to send my friend to the police."
"We realized we had to do something to raise money," Ginnie added.
"I got the idea of putting on plays," Eleanor said. "Molly and I had just volunteered to run a school production, so we knew what was involved. And Constance's brother found us the theater. It all fell into place fairly easily."
"It just seems that way now," Lucy said. "I remember it being a lot of work."
"I suppose that's true," Eleanor said. "But it was for a good cause. We helped two women that first year. The next year it was four and by our fifth year I think we'd helped more than a dozen."
"Not everyone needed a lot," Constance said. "Some just needed help to find a job or bus money to get to their folks' house."
"And others needed more drastic measures," Ginnie said dramatically.
"Like what?" Olivia asked.
"We had to fake one woman's death," Eleanor said. "That was probably the toughest acting we ever did. But if she hadn't died, her husband would have hunted her down until he took his last breath."
"I was wondering what the men thought when the women just disappeared," Olivia said.
"I'm sure a few of the men looked for them, but we'd gotten some people to help us with creating false identities," Eleanor said. "Ginnie had a friend who did really good work on driver's licenses and passports."
"So these women started brand new lives." Olivia blew out a breath. "I must admit I am awed and amazed."
"So am I," Colton said. "But I don't understand why this was all done in secret. Why not get the police involved?"
"Most of the times the police weren't interested in helping, or the women couldn't produce any evidence. And if they complained, and their husbands heard about it, they suffered more pain. The women we helped were truly trapped," Eleanor said. "We were the last resort for them. And I can't lie. Sometimes it was dangerous to do what we did."
"What do you mean?" Colton asked. "What happened?"
"I drove a woman to a bus station one night," Eleanor said. "It was almost midnight. Her husband was supposed to be at work. But he showed up. It was just me and his wife on an empty platform. He put a knife to my neck. He told her to get in his car, or he would cut me. She started crying hysterically, and I was terrified. I can still feel that cool metal against my neck." Eleanor put a hand to her throat. "Thankfully, the bus came down the road at just the right moment. I guess the headlights distracted him. He loosened his grip on me, and I kicked him where it hurts the most. I grabbed her arm, and we ran like hell. That time we did go to the police station."
"Oh, my God," Olivia murmured.
"I can't believe you did that, Grandma," Colton said. "Did the guy go to jail?"
"He did," she said. "There were witnesses on the bus who were willing to testify to what they'd seen. That time we got lucky."
"You call that lucky?" Colton asked in disbelief.
Eleanor gave him a smile. "Yes, because she survived and not everyone did. However, after that incident, some of the women in our group got nervous. They were afraid that they would end up in the same situation, and it wouldn't turn out as well. Our volunteer support began to dwindle."
"And our husbands wanted us to be done," Ginnie put in. "At least the husbands that knew about it."
"Did Grandpa know?" Colton cut in.
Eleanor drew a deep breath. "Eventually. Not at the very beginning. I knew he wouldn't like it."
"Did you tell him what happened at the bus station?" Colton asked.
"Later, I did," she admitted. "He was not happy. He didn't want me to risk my life. And he was also worried about our children being in danger. I didn't think that was really possible, but one day when Jack was about eighteen he got jumped by a bunch of older boys. He was beat up and they took his wallet. We thought it was a robbery, but when Jack told me the identity of one of the kids, I wondered if there was a connection, because I'd helped get that kid's mother out of town. But she hadn't taken her son with her, because he was seventeen, and he didn't want to go." She paused. "Jack told me that the boy said something to him about payback, but he didn't know what it meant. I was afraid I did. I realized then that I couldn't jeopardize my family, no matter how good the cause. I was going to quit, but a week later the fire destroyed the theater, and the decision was made for all of us."
Olivia thought about Eleanor's words and a question arose in her mind. "Was the fire deliberately set?"
Eleanor shrugged. "They said it started with a cigarette in the backroom. It was late at night. People used to go back there to smoke. But I always wondered—"
"If someone wanted to stop you," Olivia said.
"Yes, I wondered that. I also wondered if it was the payback the boy was talking about."
"If it was payback, then someone figured out what you and your friends were doing," Colton said.
"It's possible," Eleanor conceded. "But there were too many of us to take out."
"So they took out your theater," Ol
ivia said.
"In some ways, we felt like we were quitters," Ginnie said. "At least I did. I felt guilty about walking away, but we didn't know what else to do."
"We've kept it all secret for forty years," Eleanor said. "Not just because we didn't want to bring danger to our families, but because we had to protect the women that were in hiding. If what we had done was revealed, someone might be able to track them down."
"But Molly thought it was time for us to tell the story," Constance said.
"However, we can't name names," Eleanor said. "We can't even have you use our own names, because then there would be a link between us and the women we saved.
"Is there anyone you helped who might be willing to talk, perhaps someone whose husband has since died?" Olivia asked.
"We thought there might be someone when Molly wrote you the letter," Eleanor said. "But that has since changed. We're happy to tell you everything we know, but we can't give you names."
Which meant she would really have a difficult time getting her book published. She thought for a moment. The ladies had just thrown up a huge obstacle, but there had to be a way around it, because she was quite caught up in the idea of revealing a secret underground railroad that ran through a community theater run by a bunch of housewives. The idea had high concept written all over it. She could probably get a deal on just the tag line alone. But the book would need many more details, and she couldn't promise what she couldn't deliver.
Maybe she could deliver something. Maybe she could do her own investigating, find someone who had absolutely nothing left to lose and convince her to help with the book.
"Do you keep in touch with any of the women?" she asked.
"Oh, no," Eleanor said. "That would have been too dangerous."
"So you don't really know if there isn't someone who might be willing to speak to me?"
"No, but in order to find that out, we'd have to give you their names, and we can't do that."
"Looks like you've hit a dead end," Colton put in.
She frowned at his comment. "I don't quit that easily. I need to think about all this."
"It's a lot to take in," Eleanor agreed. "And we do appreciate you wanting to help tell our stories. As we face the twilight of our years—"
"Twilight?" Ginnie interrupted with a snort. "It's after midnight for some of us."
"As I was saying," Eleanor continued, giving her friend a pointed look. "We've been debating this for some time, ever since Molly brought it up. We never thought to go public, but we know that our time is running out, and if our story would inspire other women to step up, to help, then maybe there's some way to tell it without hurting anyone."
"I don't think there's a way," Colton said, his deep masculine voice drawing everyone's attention to him. "As you said before, it's not just the women you have to protect, it's yourselves. Twilight or midnight or whatever, you're all still alive, and you have families who care about you, and who you don't want to put in any danger or under any kind of spotlight. You were wise to keep this secret for so many years. I don't see why you would want to change that now."
Olivia knew he had a point, but he was thinking like a grandson, and she was thinking like a writer, a revealer of the truth. "It's not your decision," she told him. "Don't you understand that these women have been silenced by men for the last forty years. If they want to speak, they should be able to speak."
"I'm not stopping them from talking. I'm just pointing out the hard truth."
"The hard truth as you see it," she said, anger running through her. "This isn't your business, Colton."
"My grandmother is my business, and my family, too, and I'll protect them, just like they protected everyone else."
She blew out a breath of frustration. It was difficult to argue with someone taking such a high moral ground. But she could turn his words around, she quickly realized. "You run into burning buildings to save people," she reminded him. "You do that at great cost to yourself. You could die trying to protect someone else, and if you did die, your family would mourn you. They would grieve for you." Her words got stronger as the pain of a decade ago coursed through her. "But that wouldn't stop you from doing what was needed for the greater good, right? Why do you think these ladies are any different?"
Her challenge hung in the air—the tense, crackling air that swirled around them.
She could feel the ladies watching their exchange, but her gaze was on Colton's face. His dark blue eyes glittered with anger, and she could see him trying to formulate a rebuttal, but he had none.
"I think she got you, Colton," Eleanor said, amusement in her eyes.
His frown deepened. "She didn't get me. What I do as a firefighter is completely different from this situation."
"Well, you both made excellent points," Eleanor said. "Maybe we need to think about it a bit more."
Olivia didn't know if more thought would work in her favor or Colton's, but hopefully these four women who had risked so much forty years ago would be willing to take another risk now.
"I hope you will think about it," she said. "I don't want to push, but I only have a few days off to work on this, and I know it was important to Molly." She had to play the Molly card, because somehow Molly had convinced them that she should send the letter in the first place. The women had been on board then. They'd just gotten cold feet.
"It was important to Molly," Eleanor said, a little sigh following her words. "I hope she can get better and speak to you, Olivia."
"So do I," she said. "I went through the journals she left me, but they end rather abruptly after the birth of her daughter. I don't know if I'm missing some books or if she just stopped journaling her life, but I do know she gave me the books for a reason. Does anyone know if she has more journals at her house?"
Eleanor stared back to her. "I'm not sure. I know she was putting things together for you, so it's possible. Although it's also possible she got busy and didn't have time to write more."
Somehow she didn't think that was the case. "I know that's a logical answer, but I've been researching people's lives for a while now. I've done lots of interviews. The one thing I know for sure is that the real story begins when people stop talking. And Molly stopped talking in her journals, and I want to know why."
"Maybe she just got tired of writing stuff down," Colton put in. "You're looking for a mystery under every rock."
"And you're not being helpful."
"Good, because I wasn't trying to be," he countered.
Eleanor smiled at them. "You two don't have to be on opposite sides."
From what Olivia could see, that's exactly where they had to be. Colton muttered something under his breath and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"I know what you need, Olivia," Eleanor said after a moment. "Colton, would you get my purse? It's on the floor by the Bridge table."
Colton got up and retrieved Eleanor's purse, shooting Olivia warning daggers as he did so.
She ignored him. She was here to deal with his grandmother, not him.
Eleanor opened her bag and pulled out a key. "This is the key to Molly's house. You should go there and see what else you can learn about her."
Ginnie cleared her throat. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Eleanor?"
"Molly might not want that," Lucy agreed.
"I think that's exactly what she would want," Constance put in, casting a dissenting opinion. She and Eleanor looked at each other for a long moment. "She wanted Olivia to know the story."
"Yes," Eleanor said. "I think you should go to Molly's place and see if you can find any more journals or anything else."
Olivia got up and walked over to the couch to take the key from Eleanor's hands. "Thank you. I promise not to disturb anything."
"Of course you won't," Eleanor said. "I have no doubt about that."
"Well, I do have doubts," Colton interjected as he rose. "I'm going with you, Olivia."
"That's not necessary."
"I think it is
."
And she didn't think she would get very far trying to argue with him. "What's the address?" she asked Eleanor.
"One-Forty-Seven Halliwell Avenue."
"I'll check it out now, and then I'd like to speak to you all again."
"We'll be here tomorrow afternoon from noon to two," Eleanor said. "And we'll think about what we want to do moving forward."
"I'd appreciate that, and while I realize that you all have something to lose, and I do not, I believe your story would be very inspiring to a lot of people, not only to those who feel trapped, but to those who want to help but are afraid."
"We felt young and invincible back then," Ginnie said, a touch of sadness in her voice. "The years slowly steal that feeling away."
"Only if we let them," Eleanor said, her chin in the air. "We'll think about it, Olivia."
"Thanks."
"Mom will be back soon to give you a ride home," Colton said. "Do you mind if I go with Olivia, Grandma?"
Eleanor smiled. "I think you two will make a great team."
"And I think you all should have your heads examined for opening up this can of worms. But I do appreciate the amazing things you did. So let me do my part by making sure the secrets you've kept all these years are only disseminated in the right way."
"I trust you, Colton," Eleanor said. "I guess I'll see you both tomorrow."
"You'll definitely see me," Olivia said, hoping she could shake Colton in the meantime, but she had a feeling he would be dogging her heels for a while to come.
When they walked outside, Colton stopped on the steps and drew in a long, deep breath. "Holy shit," he said. "That was crazy. My grandmother was running an underground railroad for abused women? She was helping them escape, faking deaths…what the hell, Olivia?"
She had to admit her mind was spinning, too, and she wasn't related to the woman. She could understand why Colton would feel shaken. "If you want to stay here and talk to her about it, that's fine with me."
"No, I'm coming with you. You're not getting rid of me that easily."
"Then let's go."
As they walked toward the parking lot, Colton said, "You'll have to drive. I came with my mom and grandmother."
When Shadows Fall (Callaways #7) Page 9
