Come Rain or Shine (Shine On Series, Book Three)

by Allison J. Jewell

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “You just tell him. He’ll understand,” Walter answered.

  “Okay . . .” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say.

  “Well it was good talkin’ to ya, girl. Don’t stay gone so long you forget where your home is, okay?”

  When Emmie got off the phone she was more confused than ever. The newspaper. The mysterious news Walter was expecting. Things were happening back home and she was out of the loop. She wondered how much Silas knew and hadn’t told her.

  Chapter Twenty

  When Emmie got off the phone she found she was alone in the room with Ava. Jemma was already changing into her new dress.

  “Do you feel like talking?” Ava asked with an arched eyebrow.

  Emmie sighed as she sat down across from her friend. She rubbed her face. “About what Walter said?”

  Ava grinned. “I’m not really interested in the conversation with the old man. I mean about all of that information you unloaded before you came to Chicago with Silas.”

  Emmie shrugged, “How much do you know? Because based on your comments at the dress shop, I’m guessing that someone has told you a few of the details.”

  “Pop actually told me a little, can you believe that? I asked him about it when you left. I’m sure I didn’t get the whole story . . . only that you were taken by some revenuers that were actually pinning for Silas. Mr. Thomas was involved and you had to protect yourself from him.”

  “Sounds like you know all about it then. There’s not much for me to share,” Emmie said.

  “Are you okay?” Ava asked.

  “As okay as you can be when you may or may not have killed a man with an iron skillet,” she answered, looking down at her hands.

  Ava looked surprised for a second before she composed herself. Clearly she hadn’t gotten all of the details from her father. She walked over and wrapped her friend in a hug. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend. Whatever you did, it was what you had to do. Pop said that crazy shopkeeper was going to run away with you. There’s no court that would fault you for that.” When Emmie’s shoulders relaxed a little she smiled and added, “You were kind of right. I may have been up here feeling a little sorry for myself this past month. I had no idea what you were going through at home.”

  “I wasn’t a good friend either. I should have been there for you too. You tried to tell me about the baby on the phone, didn’t you?” Emmie asked, thinking back to one of their conversations.

  “Yeah. I couldn’t find the words though. We both made some mistakes,” Ava said.

  Emmie only nodded. Truer words had never been spoken.

  “Ava, have you heard about anything else related to the revenuer? Something that might be happening right now back home?” she asked, biting her lip.

  “No, but then they wouldn’t tell me, would they? Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just that Walter asked me if I’d read the paper or talked to Bo. He said I should ask Silas,” Emmie said.

  “Sorry, I honestly don’t know. Why was that revenuer after Silas?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. He was taking down speakeasies and stills all over Kentucky. I guess Silas was another notch in his belt?” Emmie speculated.

  “Hmm . . .” Ava thought.

  “What?” Emmie asked.

  “Well, it just seems like a lot of trouble for them to take you to get to him. It sounds more personal to me,” Ava said.

  Emmie saw the tall revenuer in her mind and thought back to the things he’d said to her. He had spoken vile words about Silas and his family. Emmie didn’t know if she believed what he’d told her. She wondered what Ava would think about the accusations.

  “You might be right. The revenuer told me Silas was a gangster. He called me a moll,” Emmie uttered the words she had never planned to discuss again. “That’s a gangster’s girl.”

  Ava frowned. “I know what it is.”

  “He said Silas and his friends had hurt his brother. Do you think that could be related to what’s going on at home now?” Emmie asked.

  Ava shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Who knows? There always seems to be more going on at home than I care to know.”

  Emmie knew Ava was getting ready to switch conversations again. She didn’t like to talk about the unpleasant side of prohibition and her family’s business. Ava’s ignorance to the workings of her family was about eighty percent choice.

  “Let’s go get you changed. Silas will be home soon. You should have on your new party dress when he arrives,” Ava said, pulling her friend out of the room and into Silas’s bedroom.

  “We have a date set you know,” Ava said nonchalantly.

  Emmie turned around with wide eyes. “When?”

  Ava bit her lower lip. “Next Thursday. Can you really have it finished by then?”

  That was going to be a lot of work but she couldn’t let her friend down. “Of course, that’ll be no problem. I’m so happy for you. I guess you are happy that you will see Gabe soon then. Which reminds me, Silas told me to tell you he had it all worked out. You should be seeing Gabe before the wedding.”

  Ava clasped her hands together excitedly. She wanted the details but Emmie had none to share. Pulling the blue-green dress over her body, she realized she was going to freeze in the cold Chicago air. The material was soft but paper-thin. The dress was also much shorter than what she typically wore, but Ava and Jemma assured her it was not indecent. A large ribbon tied at her middle. Alternating colors of blue and light green fabric cascaded down from her hips. A matching headband and navy heels complemented the dress. She put her arms out and spun. Ava gasped and told her how lovely she was. And the truth was, Emmie felt lovely. She looked in the mirror: her hair, new shoes, the makeup, and dress all came together nicely in one package. She looked just like a city girl.

  The door popped open as Emmie finished her little spin. Silas stood there for a moment with wide eyes and swore under his breath.

  “If you’ll excuse me I just need to go keep Jemma busy,” Ava muttered, walking out of the room with a smile.

  “What do you think?” Emmie asked, giving another slow spin.

  “You look beautiful,” Silas said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “Honestly?” she asked, walking toward him.

  “I swear it.” He closed the space between them.

  “You don’t mind that my hair is gone? You don’t think it makes me look like a boy?” She touched her short wavy locks.

  He gave her a slow look that made her feel uneasy. His wide hand found the material of her dress. It ran slowly up the curve of her hip, across her ribs and stopped at the seam nearest her breast. She felt her breath hitch in her throat. He looked into her eyes. “Honey, I could never mistake you for anything but a woman.”

  Her neck flushed crimson. Emmie’s feet left the ground as he pulled her into his arms. She playfully flipped his hat off with her index finger and smiled at his surprised expression.

  “I’m really starting to like what Chicago brings out in you,” he whispered in her ear as he set her back on the floor.

  She leaned back and laughed. “I’m glad you don’t hate the new look.”

  “You have always been beautiful, hair or no hair. Fancy dress or worn out hand-me-down. You will always be beautiful to me,” he said, pulling her chin up so she could look in his eyes.

  “Are we going out tonight or staying in?” she asked as he started to unbutton his shirt.

  “We’re going out,” he answered, retrieving another shirt from his closet.

  He stood there in only his tight white undershirt. Looking in the mirror, he patted down his hair. Her eyes were drawn to his faded blue cross tattoo that rippled on his bicep as he moved. Emmie couldn’t help herself; she didn’t know when they would be alone like this again. She walked over and ran her index finger down the length of his arm. He stood frozen while she touched him.

  “You have the strongest
arms. I’ve missed sleeping in them,” she said quietly.

  He turned around to face her. She ran her finger across his collarbone and down to the hard muscles of his chest. Her hands found the hemline of his white undershirt. Emmie touched his bare skin to feel the corded muscles of his stomach.

  “I miss your chest against my back at night. I don’t sleep as well without you,” she said, looking up at him.

  “Sweetheart, if you don’t stop touching me like this, we’re not going to make it out of my bedroom.”

  Emmie pulled her hand back from him with a nervous laugh. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. What had gotten into her? “Sorry, Silas. I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “Don’t be sorry. My beautiful sweet girl is rubbing her soft hands all over my chest,” he said, kissing her hand. “You’re testing my willpower here.”

  She smiled up at him as he went back to fixing his hair. “Thanks for all the special treatment today. I’m lucky to have a guy like you. I know you worked hard on the plan today.”

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’m lucky to have a doll like you.”

  “Thanks for having Walter call me,” she said.

  Silas only grinned.

  “He mentioned some things,” she said nonchalantly. She tried to decide which of those things she was going to ask him about first.

  “Oh God, what did he say?” Silas groaned. “I was afraid that little nicety might backfire on me.”

  “He said a lot. I’ve got some questions about it actually.” Emmie smiled as she repeated his least favorite phase. She knew he hated all of her questions. She decided she’d leave the ones related to Bo and the moonshine unsaid right now. He’d worked hard to make it a special day. She didn’t want to pry too much right now.

  Silas groaned. “Ask away.”

  She decided to go with the one that seemed the most curious to her personally. “He said to tell you he wasn’t a patient man. He acted like I should have been calling to give him some news. Do you know what that was about?”

  Silas actually belly laughed trying to decide what to tell Emmie. In the end he chose to give the truth a try. “Honestly? He’s defending your honor or he thinks he is anyway.”

  “My honor?” she asked, confused.

  “Well, to him . . . he feels like I’ve stolen you away from home. He knows I was staying with you in Kentucky too. He is expecting us to be married soon, I think. Crazy old coot.”

  Emmie was surprised at his words but didn’t reply. Walter wanted her to marry Silas. That was news. She always thought Walter didn’t like her around Silas. That must mean the old man had finally approved of him. Emmie realized that maybe what Walter was asking of Silas wasn’t so far off from what she wanted.

  “I want to be honest with you about something. I lied today in your office,” she said, watching him reach for his shirt.

  He frowned. “What did you lie about?”

  “When I said I just bought you that book to read with your children and not our children,” she said before she lost her nerve. “I meant our children. Silas I want to have babies with you. I want to be with you forever. Come rain or shine, like Ava said. It’s you that I want. I’ve never wanted anyone else like this.”

  A wide grin spread across his face and he laughed. “What’s Ava said? Rain or what?”

  “I want you Silas,” she said, throwing her hands out.

  “And I want you but I told you the time isn’t right yet. You deserve better than this. My sister, Trick, and Ava are out there.” He pointed to his bedroom door.

  “I’m not talking about making love to you,” she practically yelled. “I mean I want that too, I guess. But what I’m saying is I want it all with you.”

  Silas paled but didn’t say a word.

  Emmie looked up at him and whispered, “You say you love me. You call me ‘Mo Chuisle.’ Are you planning to make me promises?”

  “What kind of promises are you looking for, Emmie?”

  “The I-want-to-be-with-you-forever kind of promises . . . living-together kind of promises. I want to fall asleep with you every night, Silas. As much as I’ve wanted to be alone all these years—determined that isolation was what made me strong—I don’t want that any more. I see that I was wrong. Strength doesn’t come from isolation, it comes from loving and trusting someone else.”

  “You can love someone without running down the aisle with them, Emmie,” he said, rubbing his face.

  She was hurt. “Are you saying that’s not what you want from me? You don’t want me forever?”

  “Wait . . . what are you talking about? I’m not saying that. I’m just saying we’re still getting to know one another. I’ve known you since when, August? And you’re wanting me to propose? Let’s give it some time, Emmie. Let’s not smother each other right now,” he said.

  “Smother each other? Before we came to Chicago, we practically lived together in my house and now you are worried about smothering one another? Do you not feel the same as I do?” she asked, surprised at the ugly turn of this conversation.

  “No. Yes. Hell, I don’t know,” Silas said, pulling out a cigarette.

  She stormed over to him, pulled the tobacco stick out of his mouth, and held it up to him. “You are not using this to avoid talking to me.”

  If anyone else in the world had pulled a cigarette out of his mouth he would have shoved it where the sun didn’t shine. But he couldn’t do that to her, so he slammed his lighter down instead.

  “What’s all this about?” he asked.

  “I want to hear you say it. I want a promise from you. I want to know you will always be there,” she said.

  “Are you asking if I’m going to propose to you?” Silas swore under his breath.

  “I guess I wondered if it ever crossed your mind,” she said quietly.

  “Hell yes it crosses my mind. But I don’t think it’s the right time,” he said.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Emmie, you’ve barely lived. I can’t sweep you away when you are just now figuring out who you are. We’ve got a lot of life left ahead of us. Why do we have to be in a rush?” he asked, looking at her.

  “What do you mean, I’ve barely lived? I’ve lived enough to know you are the one I want,” she said.

  “Yeah and how many guys have you been around to know that, Emmie? Stealing kisses from Bo Johnson in some barn when you were a teen doesn’t count. You’ve not lived enough to know what you want yet,” Silas said, turning away from her.

  She stood there flabbergasted. “You want me to find more men to be around so you can be sure I want you? That’s a piss-poor excuse for not making me promises.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant,” he said, buttoning his jacket. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Silas, as a general rule, was not someone who fidgeted. He’d been berated, shot at, and shaken down by people and never fidgeted. But give him a five-foot tall southern girl, begging for him to propose marriage, and he fidgeted. This was supposed to be a good day. Everything about today was supposed to be good. The Bell House, the beauty shop, the call from Walter, it was well planned and was supposed to be good. So how had things gone to hell? He stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. She had scooted as far from him as the small car seat would allow, watching out the window.

  Silas swore to himself. Trick was right. He should have just told her the truth. He should have leveled with her about college but he couldn’t think how to say it. Each time he thought of the words to say it sounded like he was asking her to make a choice. Emmie you can’t marry me if you want to be a teacher. He wanted her to figure that out on her own. Silas couldn’t have her living with him the rest of her life, looking behind her shoulder and wondering what might have been. That’s what he’d meant by living her life. So, why in the hell had he brought Bo Johnson into the fight? That had been a dumb thing to say.

  He pulled a cigarette out
of his vest pocket and she turned to look at him. She didn’t look as angry as he thought she would. Embarrassed or sad maybe but not angry. He tried to give her a lazy grin. “You gonna rip this one outta my mouth too?”

  She shook her head and bit her lip. He could tell her wheels were turning and he didn’t have a damned clue what she was about to say. He worked his large lighter in his hands, fidgeting again.

  “It’s been such a good day. I just want to have a nice night out,” she said, looking out the window at the blue-black sky. It was really late.

  He put his arm around her and pulled her closer to his body. “I do love you. I don’t want you to doubt that . . . and I’m sorry that I brought you kissing Bo when you were a kid into our fight.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, but they both knew that it wasn’t.

  The club should have been romantic. They were seated in the corner of the fanciest place Emmie had ever stepped foot in. A man and woman sang jazz songs with deep throaty voices. The whole setting was lovely. They tried to smile and have a normal conversation, but it was too forced to be real. Emmie’s heart hurt a little. Rejection. She’d put herself out there for him and he had rejected her. She didn’t care that he had brought Bo into the argument. She cared he’d said he didn’t want her to smother him. He’d said he wanted her to have more time, more experience before she settled with him. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was the reason he’d not taken her into his bed. Maybe he knew she had no idea what she was doing and he wanted her to figure some things out before they were together.

  When they arrived at the club Emmie was surprised the place didn’t serve alcohol. This wasn’t a speakeasy, just a jazz club. They had only been there a half hour or so when the joint began to close down for the evening. Silas spoke first, “I had planned to go one more place tonight but if you’re tired, I can drive you back to Ava’s house.”

  “Has Ava already gone back home?” Emmie asked. She’d thought they would meet up later.

  “Yeah, Molly’s taken her back. Trick and Jemma were going to meet us at the next spot though, if you are up to it. It’s your choice,” he said, grabbing her hand. She could tell he wanted to continue on with the plan even though things were going to hell in a handbasket.