Shadows of St. Louis Page 12

  "Your bags have been packed, Emma Lynn. You leave tonight."

  Emma Lynn surveyed her cellar bedroom quickly. Several emotions went through her mind and body. She felt a tinge of pain knowing that she was going to have to leave the only home she had ever known, but mostly she was confused. Confused at what belongings Mrs. Goodwin could have possibly packed for her. She didn't really own anything. Nothing of value anyway. Maybe a few dresses that Rebecca Jane had passed down to her over the years. A few trinkets from Charles, but that was it. Certainly not enough to fill a suitcase.

  "And where exactly am I supposed to go?" Emma Lynn asked.

  "That is not my concern. You should have thought of that before you and your little boyfriend tried to blackmail us."

  "I didn't — oh forget it." Grabbing the bag, Emma Lynn stormed up the stairs with Mrs. Goodwin a step behind.

  "I can't believe how ungrateful you are, Emma Lynn."

  "I'm so sorry, Mother. The next time my parents treat me like a slave in my own home, I'll learn to say thank you." Emma Lynn smiled inside a little. She guessed some of Rebecca Jane had really rubbed off on her. She didn't even know she was capable of such stinging remarks.

  "What's going on here?" Charles asked as he and Rebecca Jane entered the sitting room.

  "Emma Lynn, where are you going with that bag?" Rebecca Jane asked.

  "Why don't you ask our dear mother?"

  Charles and Rebecca Jane stared at their mother expectantly.

  "Well don't look at me. She brought this upon herself," Mrs. Goodwin said.

  "What? She brought what upon herself?" Rebecca Jane asked crossing her arms.

  "She is no longer welcome here in this house."

  "You're kicking her out?" Charles asked.

  "Yes, she's kicking me out," Emma Lynn said bustling past both Charles and Rebecca Jane on her way out of the sitting room.

  "Emma Lynn, wait. We're going to figure this out," he said, grabbing her arm.

  "There's nothing to figure out. This is not my home. You are not my family. I just work here and now I no longer work here."

  "Emma Lynn, you know that's not true," Rebecca Jane said.

  "Mother, where is she supposed to go?" Charles asked.

  "That is not my concern. Maybe she can go live with her milkman and his family. They've just come in to some money."

  "Mother, if she goes, I go." Rebecca Jane crossed her arms and stared at her mother. It was another Goodwin woman show down.

  Emma Lynn had seen plenty of these over the years. She honestly couldn't think of two people who were more stubborn. She had no idea how this would turn out. How could Rebecca Jane even suggest such a thing?

  "I can't believe you're even considering this," Rebecca Jane said. "Well, let me make it easy for you, mother. We are leaving." Rebecca Jane grabbed Emma Lynn's arm and headed for the door.

  "Becky, don't," Charles said. "Mother, stop them."

  "I will do no such thing. If they want to be stubborn asses, then so be it. I want nothing to do with either of them."

  Real Family

  "Where will we go? What will we do?" Emma Lynn asked Rebecca Jane as a rush of reality pulsated through her veins, giving her a chill down to her core.

  "Don't worry, we'll be fine." Rebecca Jane grabbed Emma Lynn's bag. "We'll go stay with Clarence and his family tonight. We were already planning on moving tomorrow. We'll be fine." She squeezed Emma Lynn's hand as a sign of reassurance.

  "Becky, Em, wait." They turned to see Charles running to catch up with them. "I'm not letting the two of you walk out here alone by yourselves. It’s almost dark."

  "You should come with us, Charles," Rebecca Jane said. "You have nothing keeping you in that house. Your son is already with Clarence and his sister Cecilia. We can all stay there tonight and then move to across the river together tomorrow."

  Charles was quiet as if considering the idea. Surely he had thought of it before. Emma Lynn could tell with just one look how much he loved his son. Surely he had thought of ways to be with him permanently. This was definitely an option.

  After taking a deep breath, Charles said, "All right. The time has come. We should leave. All of us together. We can start a new family."

  Rebecca Jane smiled and hugged her brother. "You can stay with us, Charles," she said."We can move across the river to Illinois and start fresh."

  "Yeah, this will work," Charles said with so much hope in his voice. "We're going to be a family," he said to Emma Lynn. "The real family you've been deprived of your entire life." He hugged Emma Lynn and then looked at his watch. "I'm going to run back to the house and pack a bag. Rebecca Jane, do you need anything?"

  "No, I have all I need with Clarence." She meant that in every sense possible. She truly felt Clarence was all she needed, but also, she had been slowly collecting clothes and necessities at his house, knowing that one day she might have to escape there.

  "Are you all right, Emma Lynn?" Charles asked, noticing how quiet she had become.

  "Yes," she said through her silent tears.

  "Oh, Em. You're going to be okay now. Becky and I are going to take care of you and give you the life you deserve. Don't cry."

  "Okay." She hugged him tightly.

  "Maybe I'll walk you there and come back home later," Charles offered. Rebecca Jane could tell that Emma's demeanor frightened him. She had been through so much in the past few hours he didn't want to leave her alone.

  "Don't be ridiculous, Charles. We'll be fine. You go on home and then meet us at Clarence's house."

  Taking a deep breath, he said, "I won't be long. Take care of her, Becky."

  "I will. You hurry. We have a lot of plans to make."

  Odd Conversation

  Henry could hardly wipe the smile from his face. He was so happy he couldn't see straight. In a few short hours, he was going to marry Emma Lynn and they would be together forever. His stomach still tingled at the thought of her words. He could still hear her soft voice saying that he was her life. The line replayed in his mind over and over again like a malfunctioning Victrola.

  "Have you heard a word I've said?" The sound of his mother's shrill voice broke him out of his reverie.

  "Excuse me?" he responded. Honestly, he hadn't heard a thing besides the voice of Emma Lynn in his mind.

  "I said, I had the oddest conversation with Mrs. Goodwin today," his mother continued.

  "What do you mean?" he asked in a sudden panic. "You went to talk to her?"

  "Well, yes. I didn't see the harm in it. We're about to be family for God's sake."

  "Oh, mother. I told you not to do that. I begged you." Henry sat on the couch and put his head in his hands. There was no telling what kind of damage his mother had done. He had to find out. "What did she say? What did you two talk about?"

  "Well, it was very strange indeed. She offered me four hundred dollars to not mention anything about Rebecca Jane's baby. Can you imagine that?"

  "Four hundred dollars? Did you accept?" Henry racked his brain trying to think why Mrs. Goodwin would make such an offer. Was Rebecca Jane actually pregnant and Mrs. Goodwin wanted to keep it a secret?

  "I don't see how I could not accept it. That is more money than your father made last year."

  "Oh my God, you took it. What must she think of us?"

  "I honestly don't know what she was thinking. Why would I tell anyone that you and Rebecca Jane conceived a child out of wedlock?"

  Henry stood and paced the small living area. He tried to think like Mrs. Goodwin. What was she afraid of? Surely she knew that Henry wouldn't be the father of Rebecca Jane's baby even if she were pregnant. He had already asked for Emma Lynn's hand in marriage. She knew he was in love with Emma Lynn, not Rebecca Jane.

  Mrs. Goodwin was a shrewd woman. He was sure it was her business sense that garnered much of the success of the Goodwin business. She was not one to just throw away four hundred dollars frivolously. There had to be something he was missing.

  "I
f it's a boy, I thought we could name him Woodrow after the President," his mother chattered on.

  "If what's a boy?"

  "The baby. Your baby."

  Henry shook his head in frustration remembering the ridiculous web of lies he had spun. He was getting tired of it and decided it had to stop.

  "There is no baby, Mother," he blurted.

  She looked confused. "I don't understand."

  "Rebecca Jane is not pregnant."

  "But why are you getting married so soon if there is no baby? Why can't you wait and have a nice wedding like Mary Anna did? If you two are so in love, surely you can wait. Wouldn't it be lovely to have something at the Grande Hotel?"

  Henry sighed. "I'm not marrying Rebecca Jane. I'm not in love with her. I'm in love with ... " Henry paused and stared into his mother's confused yet hopeful face. He knew what he was about to tell her just might kill her but he couldn't help it. He promised Emma Lynn that she would never hurt again. And despite what she said, pretending to marry her sister had to be hurtful. He was tired of being the scared little boy who couldn't stand up for his love. Things had to change. That change started with admitting his feelings to his mother. "I'm in love with Emma Lynn."

  His mother blinked a few times but didn't respond immediately. She opened her mouth to say something then closed it again. She looked off into space for a moment before saying. "Henry, what is going on? I don't know any Emma Lynn."

  "Yes you do mother. She's the girl who lives with the Goodwins. She runs the store."

  "The colored girl?"

  Henry nodded.

  "But, Henry, how can you be in love with a Negro? What about Rebecca Jane? How must that make her feel?"

  Henry took a deep breath and pressed his eyes shut with his fingertips. His mother didn't understand. "Mother, listen to me. There was, nor never will be, anything between Rebecca Jane and me. I am in love with Emma Lynn and I am marrying her tomorrow."

  "What?" she exclaimed leaping from the couch. "Henry, this is nonsense. You can't do this. You can't bring a Negro into this family. What will your father say? What about your brothers? You'll ruin us."

  "I don't care."

  "You don't care? You don't care about your family?"

  "Yes. No. I mean …" Now he was the one getting confused. "I do care about my family; I just care about Emma Lynn more." Henry grabbed his mother’s hands and led her back to the sofa. "Mother, please understand. I have to do this. She's like the air to me. I can't live without her."

  Henry begged his mother with his eyes to accept his decision and welcome Emma Lynn into the Miller family. But somehow deep in the recesses of his soul, he knew that wouldn't happen.

  "Henry, I don't know what to say." She slowly slipped her hands out of his as if her own son was suddenly unclean.

  Standing, Henry placed his hat on his head. "That's all right, Mother. You don't have to say anything."

  "I won't tell your father about this, okay dear?" She thought she was helping. Offering to keep his secret was his mother's olive branch. But it wasn't what he wanted. He wanted acceptance, not more avoidance and lies.

  He nodded as he headed toward the door.

  "Or your brothers, for that matter," she added. "They've been through enough. First, Negros take their jobs and now a Negro is taking their brother."

  Henry tried to ignore the look of disgust on his mother's face but it was nearly impossible. It was a look he would have to get used to. Was he really prepared for a life like this? He closed his eyes and conjured an image of Emma Lynn's face. Yes, he was.

  Frank

  It had taken him all day and several hundred dollars in bribes, but Frank was finally able to piece together what was going on with his betrothed. Rebecca Jane was having an affair with a Negro. It was the same piano playing darkie that she sang with at the party. How dare she embarrass him like this?

  Frank poured himself another glass of rum. How many did that make? Four? Five? It didn't matter. He wanted to drink himself to death. If word got out that he had been rejected for a Negro, it would ruin him and he might as well be dead any way.

  There had to be a way he could fix this, he thought as he twirled his revolver around his finger.

  "Whoa, Frankie. Is that loaded?" his friend Maxim asked.

  "Well, of course it's loaded. What good is an unloaded gun?"

  "Well, then stop twirling it like that. You're likely to shoot one of us," Bart said. He tried to reach for the gun to take it out of Frank's hand, but even an intoxicated Frank had quicker reflexes than the slightly overweight Bartholemew Tanden.

  Frank grabbed Bart's hand and twisted it around his back then pointed the gun to his head. "Maybe that's exactly what I want to do."

  Maxim's kitchen was suddenly quiet. "Come on Frankie old boy," Maxim said. "You're upset with Rebecca Jane. Not us." He let out a nervous giggle, apparently trying to lighten the mood. "Why don't we help you teach her a lesson?"

  Frank slowly put the gun down and looked a question at Maxim. "What do you mean? Teach her a lesson how?"

  Maxim shrugged. "Um, I'm not sure. But what I am sure of is that what she did to you is not right. She's yours and she gave what's yours to a Negro. I say you go over and take what's yours."

  Putting the gun down, Frank seemed to think this over.

  Bart rubbed his shoulder as he said, "I don't see why you'd even want her anymore after a Negro has been with her. That's just disgusting."

  In his fuzzy and intoxicated brain nothing made sense to him anymore. Part of him wanted nothing to do with Rebecca Jane because she had given herself to a Negro. The other part of him wanted her even more to prove that he was better than said Negro. In any case, sitting there polishing off a bottle of rum wasn't going to solve his dilemma.

  "Let's go," he said, tucking his gun into his jacket and grabbing his bottle.

  "Where are you going?" Bart asked.

  "It's time I had a little chat with my fiancée."

  "I don't like that tone in your voice, Frank," Bart said. "There are other girls out there. Mary Wheathers has always had a thing for you. Why don't you just ask her out and forget about Rebecca Jane?"

  Suddenly, Frank wondered why he even spent time with the chubby, wide-eyed Bart Tanden. He wasn't sophisticated enough and just didn't understand the world the way he and Maxim did. The only reason Bart was ever included was because they were first cousins. Frank's mother forced him to include Bart since Bart had no other friends. Looking at him, it was easy to understand why.

  "It's not a matter of there being other girls," Maxim said. "Frank has had several other girls. It's a matter of honor and what's right. I do believe Ms. Goodwin needs to be taught a lesson."

  "What kind of a lesson? I don't understand what's happening."

  "Just shut up and get in the car," Frank said, pushing Bart out of his chair.

  Shots Fired

  Frank and his friends never made it to the Goodwin home. On the way there they ran right in to Rebecca Jane walking down the street with her maid Emma Lynn.

  "Pull over, don't let them see us," he ordered Maxim.

  "Why not?"

  Frank wasn't exactly sure why he didn't want Rebecca Jane to see him. Wasn't that the point of his coming out in the first place? Wasn't he going to her house to find her and teach her a lesson? He vaguely remembered something to that effect, but the rum was doing odd things to his mind. He couldn't really think straight anymore. And the fact that she was with the pretty little Negro girl confused him even more. He wasn’t even sure which one he wanted. Maybe he would take them both.

  "Let's see where they’re going," Frank slurred. Yeah that seemed logical. He could follow Rebecca Jane and find out where she was going. But then what? "Let's follow them and find out where she's going," he said trying to sound confident and in charge in his drunken state. "Maybe she'll lead us to him and I can teach them both a lesson." He patted his gun in his pocket to make sure it was still there.

  ***


  Rebecca Jane noticed the car following them for the past two blocks, but she didn't want to alert Emma Lynn. She had been through enough. Besides, it could be nothing. It could be a couple of tourists who were lost and trying to find their way. Rebecca Jane shook her head imperceptibly. Now that was a ridiculous thought. Tourists in East St. Louis? Why would anyone want to come to this city?

  No, Rebecca Jane knew exactly who it was behind those taillights. Even in the dark she recognized Maxim's car. Frank's loyal best friend Maxim. A boy who blindly did anything Frank asked of him. It meant Frank was no doubt in the car.

  What could he possibly want? He had to know that things were over between them after what happened in the alley behind the Grande Hotel. After what he had done to Emma Lynn, there was no way she would ever want anything to do with him.

  She glanced over her shoulder a little at the car slowly creeping behind them. Oh how she wished Charles would hurry. There was no way Frank would try anything when Charles was around.

  A chill crept over her. What exactly would Frank try? How would she and Emma Lynn protect themselves against him? No doubt Bart was with Frank and Maxim as well. That was three against two. They would be defenseless.