As the Liquor Flows

by Angela Christina Archer

  “Thank you. It’s not much, but it will suffice for now. Luckily, for us, it came furnished,” Henry laughed as he sat down on the couch.

  “I’m going to just put this in the icebox. I’m afraid all we have is water, but would anyone care for a glass?”

  While Joanne nodded, Henry and John shook their heads.

  I held my breath as I slid the casserole along the wire rack in the icebox. I glanced around the kitchen. The notion I knew nothing about this home kicked me in the gut.

  Did we have any glassware? Silverware? Or even any plates and bowls? How could I offer a woman a glass of water when I don’t even have a glass?

  One by one, I opened each of the cabinet doors, cringing with each squeak of an old, rusty hinge. To my relief on the bottom shelf in one of the cabinets above the sink, sat the needed dishes, covered with a thick layer of dust. I grabbed a glass, washed it off, and filled it with water.

  “My apologies, I’m afraid we don’t have ice, either.”

  “Oh, that’s all right, dear. I know you guys just moved in.”

  “So do you two live far from here?” I asked.

  “A few miles down the road. The property has been in my family for, well, decades, and has been passed down through the generations.”

  Henry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied the Walkers. His shoulders calm, and yet poised as though he considered their every word and movement.

  “So how to you like the old house and property?” John’s attention squared on Henry. Hesitation brewed in his eyes as though his own mind pondered the mysterious young couple who had moved into the cottage.

  “It’s quite peaceful. I think we’ll actually enjoy it here.”

  “So then you plan to stay long?”

  “Yes, we hope to,” Henry said.

  “Well that’s nice,” Joanne gushed. “Most of the tenants don’t stay long and they’ve never been social. Not one has ever opened the door when we’ve knocked to welcome them.”

  “Probably a relief, sometimes, huh? Not having to deal with the wrong kind of neighbors.” Henry laughed.

  The Walker’s glanced at each other and Joanne shifted her weight awkwardly.

  Henry cleared his throat. “Well, this place certainly will be a nice change from New York while I’m in between jobs.”

  “Ah, yes, tough times out there for sure, especially for a young couple just starting out.” John finally relaxed slightly and sat down on the armrest of the chair. He leaned against the back, propping his left ankle on top of his right knee. “Don’t say I miss those days much.”

  “We certainly had many of them, didn’t we, dear?” Joanne asked. “I suppose the stock market crash hasn’t made it any better either.”

  John nodded. “Yes, owning our house has certainly been a blessing from God in these hard times. Not like the rumors we’ve heard about in New York.”

  “Is it as awful as they say in the newspapers?” Joanne’s nose crinkled with her question.

  Henry’s eyes shifted to the floor as he nodded.

  For a brief moment, I thought of the woman so desperate, she put her children up for sale. Had she decided to keep them? Had she found someone to help her? Or, had she sold them, waving goodbye as she watched them leave with someone else?

  “John and I pray every day for the people who are suffering. I can’t even imagine having to live through some of the things we read about in the stories. We are blessed to live where we do.”

  “And that is why Sarah and I are here now.”

  “Well, it will certainly be nice to have a couple of neighbors. I mean, the only time we see anyone else is Sunday mornings at church. It’d be kind of nice to talk to someone other than my husband once and awhile.”

  “Ah, yes. Apparently, after thirty years I’m just too boring.”

  Joanne flashed John a smile before turning her attention back to us. “So, how long have you two been married?”

  Henry glanced at me and winked. “A couple of weeks, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh, wow, that’s not long at all. I suppose congratulations are in order, then. So, how did you two meet?”

  “She was applying for a job as a dancer at a burlesque theater when I walked in.”

  Joanne gasped and covered her mouth while John fought laughter. A hint of judgment flickered in her eyes and she leaned against the back of the chair as if to lean far away from the scandalous woman sitting across the room from her.

  “Why . . . why . . . why would you say that?” My eyes widened and I blinked several times at Henry.

  “I’m joking, of course. We met through a mutual acquaintance.”

  Henry and John chuckled together, an obvious joke only funny to a man and not a woman as Joanne and I just stared at them. Although the tension eased in her shoulders, questions plagued her gaze.

  “So, do you think you’ll like living out here in the country, Sarah?” With hesitation still in her voice, she shook her head as though to distract her thoughts.

  “I think so. I’m not really sure what to expect quite yet.”

  “Have you thought about what you’re going to plant in your garden, yet?”

  “I’m sorry, but my what?”

  “Your garden. Gardens are such a relaxing joy, and living out here, they just make life so much easier. I’ve always loved the beautiful garden at this place. It’s such a wide open space with plenty of sunshine.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t noticed.”

  “I’m afraid that the weeds have overgrown the space with all the rain this season, but it shouldn’t take too much for you to clear it out and plant your spring seeds.”

  I glanced at Henry gave me a slight smirk.

  “Spring seeds?”

  “Why, yes, you really should get your seeds in the ground soon if you want a fall harvest. The hardware store in town has plenty of different options, and if you want something they don’t have, they will order it for you.”

  “Oh.” I slumped in the couch.

  “Well, honey, I think you’ve done it. You’ve overwhelmed the girl.” John chuckled as he stood and outstretched his arm. “I think on that note, it’s time we should let these two get settled. No need in overstaying on their first night here.”

  Henry rose to his feet while my rump remained glued to the couch. He shook John’s hand before he opened the door.

  “Thank you so much for the dinner. We’ll return the casserole dish in the morning.”

  “Oh, you’re quite welcome, Jackson, and there’s no rush on the dish. I have several.” She gave his hand a petite shake and waved toward me. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Sarah. I’m sure we will see you soon.”

  “Yes, of course. It was a pleasure meeting you, too.”

  With the soft click, Henry shut the door and rotated the lock on the knob. He exhaled a deep breath as he leaned against the wood and banged his head against it a few times.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I didn’t really wish to make acquaintances out here.”

  “Then why did you invite them in?”

  “To be cordial. I mean, they brought us dinner, which is lucky for us since I realized after they arrived we have absolutely no food here.”

  “So we talked to them. It wasn’t for very long.”

  “I just don’t wish to be the topic of discussion amongst people around here, nor do I want to give anyone the ability to answer any questions about us.”

  “I thought Vincent wouldn’t be able to find us out here.”

  “He shouldn’t be able to, but you never know with Vincent Giovanni.”

  “Even with no one knowing our real names?”

  He shrugged his shoulders as he yanked the solid drapes over the sheer curtains of the window, blocking out the view from the glass.

  “Henry?”

  He spun around to face me. It was the first time I’d called him by his real name and the sound seemed to resonate inside him as though
a sense of relief relaxed through his body.

  With a smile on his face, he sauntered to my side and drew me into him. His heat warmed me while his breath whispered against my skin. His lips gently kissed mine, the passion behind their movement ignited and built slowly as his hands slid up my waist, grazing my neck, and then my cheeks.

  As he withdrew from me, one of my curls fell into my eyelashes. Before I could move it, he brushed it away and tucked it behind my ear.

  “I don’t want you to worry about it, though. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  NINETEEN

  “ARE YOU SURE you don’t want to come into town with me?” Henry peeked through my bedroom door as I sat on the bed. His forehead wrinkled slightly with his question.

  He didn’t like the thought of leaving me here alone.

  “I should wash my dress before the stain sets in.”

  I ducked my chin as my fingers traced along the remains of the roasted chicken splattered across the lace bodice of my mother’s dress, the unfortunate result of the accident last night that ended with my rump on the tiled floor and my plate of food landing against my chest.

  “I should have washed it last night, instead of just trying to wipe it clean, I’m afraid it might already be ruined.”

  He stepped into the bedroom and handed me an extra white dress shirt he pulled from the trunk of his car.

  “I know it’s not ideal, but at least you won’t be walking around here naked. Although, I suppose that wouldn’t be such a shame, either.” He winked.

  “Um, no.” I snatched the shirt from his grasp.

  “I’ll see what I can find for us in town. I don’t know how long we’ll have to be here and with your proclivity for spilling on yourself, I’m afraid we will both run out of clothes.”

  “Ha. Ha. Weren’t you leaving?”

  “I need to show you how to use the gun, first, in case someone comes snooping around.” He yanked the steel from his shoulder holster and outstretched his hand for me to grasp it from him.

  I reached out to take the gun, but paused. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “The safety is on right now. You can’t fire it.”

  My fingers trembled as I slipped my hand over the cold steel, inciting a thrill that licked against every devious thought I’d ever had in my mind.

  “Is this how I hold it?”

  He strode around behind me and lifted his hands, mimicking my stance. “Yes, put your palm here, then these fingers here, and your index finger rests here on the trigger.”

  The image of someone standing at the other end of the barrel toyed with thoughts that both excited, and yet, terrified through my mind. Could I really point the weapon at someone? And if I could, could I pull the trigger?

  He seized the gun from me, flipping a tiny switch before he set it on the dresser. “I’ll leave it here for you. I flipped the safety off, so be careful with it. It’s loaded and ready, all you have to do is point it and pull the trigger.”

  “I probably won’t even touch it unless I have to. I might not even look at it, either.” I laughed.

  “Are you sure you want to stay here alone?”

  “Yes, I’ll be all right. I’ll wash the dress, hang it out to dry, and I’ll probably curl up on the sofa with one of those dusty books on the shelf in the living room.”

  “The washing machine is in the corner of the kitchen. I already filled it with the water and soap, it’s kind of an older model, and the switch is on the top.”

  “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

  “I won’t be long.” The quiver in his voice as his lips brushed my forehead sounded as though his words were for his comfort more than mine, and with a deep sigh, he finally left the room.

  I caught my reflection in the mirror beside the dresser. My pale skin grayed against the plain white walls and the dull light of the room.

  Certainly, I shared his concern. However, I also needed some time alone. I needed to curl up on a comfortable couch, wrapped head to toe in a blanket while forgetting about the outside world and everything in it. Lost in a story not of my own, I needed time to myself to escape my own haunted thoughts and simply breathe.

  My mother’s dress slid down waist, hips, and legs, gliding along until it landed on the floor. A chill sent goose-bumps across my skin as I grabbed Henry’s dress shirt and slipped my arms into the sleeves.

  Two sizes too big, it hung just below my rump, barely covering my derrière as it curved down into my legs. Heat tickled through my cheeks.

  Thank goodness, I’m alone.

  I flipped the buttons through the holes one by one, leaving the top few open, then rolled the sleeves to fit around my forearms before folding down the collar around my neck.

  My toes cooled on the hardwood floor as my bare feet tiptoed into the kitchen. Not even the warmth of the wood stove heated enough.

  I turned the dress inside out and tossed it into the barrel drum full of soapy water. The lid squeaked as I closed it, latched the handle, and hit the switch. With a sudden lurch, the whole machine clanked and thumped as the barrel started shaking with a loud rumble that echoed throughout the kitchen.

  I opened the icebox and grasped the casserole with one tiny piece of chicken left. I licked away the last of the mashed potatoes on my thumb as I stuck the cold dish in the oven to reheat while I washed last night’s dishes.

  A rack full of freshly clean dishes later, I tossed the warmed chicken on a plate, slicing it into several bites that I popped in my mouth until they were all gone. The loud thumps of the washing machine had settled into a sloshing sound from the barrel slowly spinning in its cycle.

  I set the plate and casserole in the sink to soak and crossed into the living room, plucking one of the novels off the shelf.

  As I reached for the blanket on the back of the couch, a knock rapped against the front door. I held my breath and glanced down the hallway toward the bedroom where the gun still lay on top of the dresser.

  Should I get it? Should I just answer the door? Should I ask who it was? Or should I remain silent and hope whoever left without further investigating if anyone was home?

  Another knock rapped a little harder than the first time.

  “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes? It’s Mrs. Walker, again. Are you home?”

  “Just one moment, please.” My voice cracked slightly as my hand flipped the lock and turned the brass so the door would pop open.

  “So sorry to have interrupted you this morning, Mrs. Hayes.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not, I was . . .” As I looked down upon Henry’s shirt, my cheeks flushed hot and heat radiated through my whole body. “I was just doing some much needed laundry. Seems I’ve misplaced several dresses in my packing and, well, the few I have are dirty.”

  “It’s quite all right, Mrs. Hayes. If I had a nickel for every time I wore one of John’s shirts, well, no, I’d be poor, but if we both looked like the two of you, I’d be a millionaire.”

  She laughed and covered her mouth as though her own volume surprised her. She glanced over my shoulder, her eyes dancing around the room behind me as she searched to see if anyone else had heard her.

  “Jackson is in town shopping for groceries.”

  “Well, then I guess I don’t have to worry about that being just between us women.”

  “I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Anyway, the reason I stopped today was I wanted to bring these over for you. We just have so many, and I thought they would help you get started.” She handed over several small bags that rattled like a baby rattle with the movement.

  “Oh, um, what are they?”

  “Seeds.”

  “Seeds?”

  “Yes, seeds for your garden. There isn’t too much a variety, but I brought lettuce, carrots, sweet corn, sweet peas, string beans, and some cabbage. I thought it would be a good start for you.”

  “Oh, yes, yes, I suppose it would.” My fingers wrapped around the bags, jingling the content
s of the paper bags once more. “Well, thank you.”

  “They’ll keep for a while, but it’s probably best to get them in the ground as soon as possible so you’ll have a good harvest.”

  “Oh, yes, we will do that.”

  “Well, I’ll let you get back to your washing. I just wanted to drop those off.”

  “Thank you again.”

  “You’re welcome and let me know if you need any help.”

  “I will. Oh, and I’ll bring by your dish to you later today.”

  “No rush on that, dear. As I said before, I have plenty of them.” With a slight chuckle, she waved and strolled down the cobbled path toward her old farm truck parked in the driveway.

  I shut the door and ambled into the kitchen.

  “What on earth am I going to do with these?”

  I tossed the brown paper bags onto the kitchen table. Unfortunately, the force of the movement knocked a couple of them over and dozens of dried corn kernels and dried sweet peas spilled out. Before I could grab them, they rolled over the edge of the table, where they bounced in several directions all over the tiled kitchen floor.

  Oh shoot.

  I knelt down on my hands and knees, trying to find each kernel that had fallen. Unfortunately, as I wriggled under the table, I bumped one of the legs, jarring the piece of furniture and causing even more seeds to fall to the ground and roll across the tile.

  One by one, I hunted them down, tucking them in the palm of my hand as I crawled along the floor.

  Seeds. She just had to stop and give me seeds.

  A man cleared his throat behind me and I froze. Surely, my derrière stuck high in the air, and surely, with the length of Henry’s shirt not long enough to cover, my undergarments were completely exposed.

  I closed my eyes, squeezing them tight as the back door of the cottage softly clicked shut behind me. Heat warmed the shells of my ears.

  No. Please, no. Please tell me this is not happening.

  I inhaled a deep breath, then rocked my weight backward and rose to my feet, tugging on the bottom of the shirt to give it some length over my rump. I dropped each of the seeds on the table. A few stuck to my sweaty palm, and bounced several inches after I flicked them off with my fingers.