Sold on a Monday

by Kristina McMorris

  Claire subtly stiffened her arm over Ruby, standing guard.

  “Victoria.” Sylvia was struggling against an onset of frustration. “Be a good girl now and listen to your mother.”

  “Ruby, it’s okay,” Ellis piped in. “I’m taking you to your family.”

  A rub to the eyes, and Ruby eased out into view. She wore a sailor dress with no shoes, her hair mussed from sleep. Slowly she began her descent, her daze lifting with her steps, her expression lightening halfway down, where she suddenly picked up speed.

  Sylvia reached out to embrace her. “That’s my dear girl.”

  But Ruby flew right past. “Mama,” she cried out and sprinted into the open arms of Geraldine, now standing in the entry. Her son was scurrying in to join her, with Lily just behind.

  Sylvia’s arms went limp as she watched. Her red-smeared fingers dangled at her sides. Growing out of sorts, she sank onto the bottom step, shrinking into herself.

  “Calvin,” Lily said, trying to coax the boy away. “We need to stay outside now.” She sent Ellis a look of apology, a message that she’d tried to contain him. Likely his mother too.

  But what did they expect?

  Then Geraldine held the hands of her children and turned to Alfred. “I got both my kids here, and I’ll be taking ’em with me.” She wasn’t vindictive or cold, simply assertive as their rightful mother.

  Alfred looked utterly lost. Only the rumble of a passing car filled the quiet as he nodded.

  Claire had just made her way down to Geraldine. She handed over a small overcoat and a pair of Mary Janes. “For the lass.” With a wistful smile, she bent before Ruby and gave her nose a gentle tap. “You’ll mind your mam, now, won’t ya?”

  Ruby beamed in agreement.

  When Claire shifted toward Calvin, who kept snug at his mother’s side, she opened her mouth but no words came. Solemnness born of regret played over her features until the boy spoke softly. “G’bye, Miss Claire.”

  Claire smiled, her eyes misting over. “Goodbye, sweet lad.”

  Ellis had no idea how Max would feel about the change without approval, but he knew better than to stick around and find out.

  “Time to go,” he said.

  Lily, after a kind nod to Claire, ushered the family toward the door, away from memories that hopefully one day would become a forgotten dream for each of them.

  “Sylvia, no!” Alfred’s order swung Ellis around. His focus cut to the staircase, now vacant, before locating Sylvia across from the parlor, at the edge of the den. She gripped a revolver with both hands. Aimed at Geraldine, it quivered in her hand.

  “Darling, give me the gun,” Alfred implored. “You don’t need to do this.”

  There was a ghostly distance in Sylvia’s gaze, a disconnect.

  The other women clambered to protect the children in a frenzied, panicking huddle. Ellis stepped into the line of fire, though he couldn’t shield them all.

  “No one’s taking my daughter from me,” Sylvia said. No trace of anger, just matter-of-fact. Which was even more frightening.

  Ellis showed his palms, a peaceable approach. “Mrs. Millstone, if you want to blame anyone, you should blame me. Not them, just me. I’m begging you.”

  She didn’t react. She was locked in her own realm, seeing right through him.

  “Mrs. Millstone,” he urged, striving to break through, then came a click.

  She’d cocked the hammer. Her finger hugged the trigger. Before Ellis could think, he lunged forward, reaching for the weapon. A shot exploded from the barrel, and the feel of a red-hot poker pierced his side, but he wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t. They were grappling on the floor, fighting for the gun. Every movement gouged him inside. The pain throbbed and spread through his body, narrowing his vision. He heard a throng of voices, a din of words. He couldn’t give up, but his strength was dwindling, his limbs turning to water. The room was dimming into an endless tunnel of blackness.

  The last thing he heard before his mind fell away was the blast of a second shot and a woman’s bloodcurdling scream.

  Chapter 42

  Outside the guarded hospital, reporters circled like hungry wolves. They wanted every detail of the shootings, including names and ages—of the children, in particular—and, of course, confirmation of links to Max Trevino. The story would soon grace many a front page.

  The irony wasn’t lost on Lily.

  In the waiting area, on the same chair for hours—it was nearly two in the afternoon—she glanced up as a doctor appeared. He whispered to a nurse. His thick mustache was peppered like his temples and vibrated as he spoke. Lily’s shoulders coiled into springs. She dreaded a look that suggested the worst. Around her, tension ratcheted from others fearing the same. The sudden quiet was deafening. But then the doctor proceeded on his way, rounding the corner.

  Once more, Lily sank into her seat.

  The air reeked of disinfectant, bleach, and the cigarettes of nervous smokers. Through the light haze, a man dragged a chair in her direction, shrilly scraping the tiled floor. Tiny hairs rose on the back of her neck from more than the sound. A policeman, upon learning of Lily’s involvement, had warned her a detective would eventually be here to talk.

  That man now sat down to face her.

  “Good afternoon.” He removed his brimmed hat, promoting casualness, and rested it on his lap. From his pin-striped suit and tidy haircut to his perfect white teeth, he was a recruitment poster for J. Edgar Hoover.

  She didn’t catch his name or anything more in his introduction—her mind was muddled from shock and fear and lack of sleep. But she could guess what information he sought.

  If only she could escape—from this hospital, this moment in time. How nice it would be to leap forward by a week, a month even. The unseemly rumors would have long been buried, the puddles of blood mopped clean, the outcome of this day endured. She imagined herself then, in a secluded corner of a dim café, being interviewed by some young reporter over coffee. His fresh-faced eagerness would remind her of the person she had been when first moving to Philly, a dogged columnist in the making. Back when she believed a new start in a big city would crowd out the shame of her past. The sense of being an unworthy mother.

  “What a relief,” he would say, “that everything turned out fine.”

  For some, of course. Not all.

  Then she heard “Can you tell me how it all started?” It was a standard question that blended the reporter in Lily’s head with the detective before her, and she wasn’t entirely certain which of them had asked.

  And yet, through the lens of her mind, she suddenly viewed the past year with stunning clarity, saw the interwoven paths that had delivered each of them here. Every step a domino vital in knocking over the next.

  With no small amount of regret, she nodded at him slowly, remembering as she replied. “It started with a picture.”

  • • •

  For a short time then, everything but memory became a blur. The confines of the hospital drifted away. The ringing of phones and squeaking of shoes dulled to a distant hum. Lily recalled whom she was speaking to only when the detective asked a question, wanting to clarify a few points. He held a pencil over his pocket-size notepad. Its mound of flipped pages conveyed all the scrawling he had done to keep up.

  In the midst of her last answer, the mustached doctor reentered the waiting area.

  “Pardon me, everyone.” Even without his authoritative voice, each person in the vicinity would have snapped to attention. The deliverer of either blessings or devastation, he gave away nothing in his expression. “If the family members of Ellis Reed and Geraldine Dillard would care to come forward, I have an update.”

  Lily sprang to her feet before realizing the designation didn’t apply to her. But the children were the sole family members here. She glanced at her mother, who was watching over the little ones.
Ruby, Calvin, and Samuel looked up from a Beatrix Potter book that a nurse had supplied.

  When Lily had phoned the deli—after the day’s terror, she was desperate to hear her family’s voices—she’d repeatedly assured her father that there was no reason for anyone to come, that his comforting words were enough. Yet the moment her mother and Samuel walked in, a flood of tears and gratitude washed over Lily.

  “You go on, ma’am,” the detective said, rising. “I’ve got everything I need for now. Here’s how to reach me if you think of anything more.” He tore off a page from his notepad. Mindlessly Lily stuffed the information into her purse, which she then clutched to her body like armor.

  Her mother waggled her fingers, urging Lily to join Ruby and Calvin. Hand in hand, the two were plodding toward the doctor. Samuel sat and watched.

  The dread in the air was palpable.

  It had taken time for the hospital to reach Ellis’s parents. Someone would need to relay his update once they arrived. Lily would cling to every word largely for this purpose, she told herself. Though the truth of her interest was far more personal. Her greatest concerns over Geraldine, on the other hand, resided with the children. Her reservations over what they were about to learn were clearly shared by the doctor.

  “Children,” he said, “I think it’s best you sit back and wait while I confer with the adult here.”

  Straightening, Ruby wrapped her arm around her brother’s shoulders. She emitted the air of a seasoned protector. “This is about our mama. We got a right to know.”

  The doctor looked to Lily for approval. While such an allowance was uncommon, they were hardly common kids. What was more, having lived through their father’s passing, they surely grasped the gravity of the situation.

  Lily submitted a nod, and the doctor proceeded.

  “First off, in regard to Mr. Reed, I’m pleased to say we found no remnants of the bullet in his side region and no damage to major organs. He did suffer a fractured rib, however, and required a transfusion due to blood loss. As always, infection remains a risk. But so long as he takes good care of the stitched wounds, I expect his recovery to be a smooth one.”

  He stopped there, and Lily realized: Ellis was safe. He would be all right! Relief swept through her, but for just a second.

  “And our mama?” Ruby asked. Her eyes alone betrayed her fears as the doctor shifted his focus in her direction.

  “Unfortunately, the bullet that struck your mother’s back did shatter a small but important bone. Whenever that happens, our biggest concern is the possibility of permanent damage to the spinal cord.”

  The potential results wrung Lily’s heart. That the mother of these two young children, their sole parent in this world, could lose the use of her legs. That in a reversal of roles, the kids could be caring for Geraldine for the rest of her days.

  Perhaps it had been a mistake, permitting the children to stay for this.

  “So?” Ruby said. “What’d you find?” She was growing impatient, and Lily wondered how much of the medical talk the children comprehended.

  “A little to the left or to the right,” the doctor replied, “and we would have been in far more trouble. Your mother is a lucky woman, and a strong one too.”

  Calvin asked in a small voice, “She’s…okay?” Ruby squeezed him closer.

  “There’ll be some swelling, and assisted exercises will be helpful. But yes, it’s safe to say she’ll be just fine.”

  Grins swept across the children’s faces. Their glee instantly spread to Lily, and even her mother, who was gauging the outcome from her chair.

  “Mr. Reed is awake now,” the doctor added, “but he might be a bit groggy. Mrs. Dillard should be waking any time. A nurse can take you all to see them soon.” As he walked away, Ruby wrapped Calvin in a hug, and the two hopped about like jumping beans. Despite all they had gone through, at least in this moment, they were bursting with the innocence of youth.

  Then Samuel joined in, and they became a bouncing trio. Whether or not he knew what he was celebrating didn’t matter a whit.

  Lily hated to shush them but did so gently, being mindful of other patients, before an anxious voice came from behind.

  “Lily! There you are.”

  Though she recognized his voice, the surprise didn’t fully hit her until she saw Clayton approaching. He looked her up and down, assessing. “You’re not hurt,” he said with relief.

  “No…I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Oh, thank God,” he said. “The chief didn’t have any details.”

  “The chief?”

  “Your mother phoned him about you being out. I was just there packing up my desk. I jumped in my car as soon as I heard.”

  She was ceaselessly amazed by the support her parents gave, regardless of the effects on their lives. And now here was Clayton, another person in her life willing to look out for her, to protect her. “I feel terrible that it caused you to drive all this way. I would’ve assured you…if I’d known.”

  “Sweetheart,” he said, “what in the world happened here?”

  A simple question with an overwhelming answer.

  All at once, she felt so very tired. Aside from a brief nap while curled up on hospital chairs, it seemed an eternity since she had truly rested. The idea of recounting the journey all over again only added to her fatigue. Even so, she owed it to Clayton to at last tell him everything.

  In the background, a nurse was pushing a patient in a squeaky wooden wheelchair, fresh visitors were milling about, and Lily’s mother was trying to calm the children while suppressing her own smile.

  “Let’s…find some place quiet,” Lily said.

  • • •

  The emptiness of the stairwell amplified the silence in the stale air. A full minute had passed after Lily finished, and Clayton still stood before her, absorbing, clutching his fedora to his side.

  “What I don’t understand,” he said finally, “is why you’d put your life in jeopardy like this. You should have told me. I would’ve helped.”

  “I know. I should have. And I was going to. The other day, I’d planned to tell you all about my column at the same time when—”

  “Your column?” Confusion clouded his eyes. “Whatever are you talking about?”

  She winced, her justifications crumbling into a pathetic heap. Yes, his proposal at lunch had thrown her off. But for several weeks prior, she’d had countless opportunities to go to him, and she hadn’t. And not just about the Dillards.

  For months, they had chatted away during car rides and over meals, both alone and with her family. Yet she never thought to tell him about the hauntings of her past, or what had long been the source of her greatest fear. She hadn’t told him about her dreams of writing or even the extent of Samuel’s last fever.

  She could blame her defenses, upheld against any man other than her father for the sake of her son and her own scarred heart.

  But that wasn’t true, she realized.

  Not anymore.

  “Clayton, I’m sorry. There’s so much more I should have shared. I honestly have no reasonable excuse.”

  He glanced away then, and she found herself at a loss for words. The stairwell again became unbearably quiet. “I need you to tell me, Lily,” he said before meeting her gaze. “You’re not coming to Chicago…are you?”

  At the resignation in his voice, she strove to assure him. “I care for you so deeply, Clayton. And what you’re offering is incredible, sincerely, for me and for Samuel—”

  “That wasn’t my question.” He cut her off, but not in a terse way. She was meandering around the truth, and they both knew it.

  As much as she didn’t want to hurt him—this thoughtful, successful, dashing man who was willing to give her so much—she couldn’t go on pretending. He deserved more than that. He deserved someone who would challenge him, even t
o a frustrating degree, to make him look at himself and others and the world in a new way. Someone who inspired him to push himself further than he ever thought capable. Someone who needed him as much as he needed her. She wanted that for Clayton.

  And for herself.

  At long last, to provide an answer—not only about Chicago, but about the fate of their future—she gently voiced her realization. “No…I won’t be going.”

  He took this in, and he sighed. There was less disappointment than acceptance in his face. Perhaps he had already known it would come to this. Perhaps, from the start, they both did.

  She reached into the coin pocket of her purse and retrieved his ring. She held it tight between her fingers, feeling the finality of her decision before handing it over. Wordlessly, he slid the ring beneath his overcoat and into the breast pocket of his suit.

  “Clayton, please know. After all you’ve done for me, all the time you must feel I’ve wasted…I’m just so sorry…”

  His brown eyes softened as he looked at her. “I’m not,” he said and brushed her chin with his thumb. Then he kissed her on the cheek with a kindness she would always remember. “You take care, Lily.”

  A wave of emotion flowed through her as she returned his smile. “You too,” she said, and she watched him walk away.

  • • •

  The question didn’t need to be spoken. Curiosity over Clayton’s whereabouts appeared plainly on her mother’s face when Lily returned to the waiting area alone.

  Getting straight to it, Lily pushed out the admission. “He’s gone.”

  Her mother went still, comprehending the meaning.

  The children were playing quietly nearby, waiting patiently to see Geraldine.

  “Sit.” Lily’s mother gave a single pat to the chair beside her, an order Lily heeded while bracing for a lecture.

  “Yes, I’m downright foolish. I know that’s what you must think of me.”

  “What I think,” her mother said, “is that you’d be foolish to do anything you’re not meant to.” Lily shifted to face her, not hiding her surprise. “You’re our miracle baby, Lillian Harper. Your father and I have always wanted great things for your life. But nothing more than your happiness.”