Emmie looked at the two girls. Jemma and Ava looked lovely. Their lips were perfectly painted, their eyebrows were perfectly shaped. They really did look like the flapper models from the magazines in the salon. Emmie felt like she was stuck in someone else's skin. She kept trying to push her hair behind her ears but it was frozen in place. Rows of perfectly placed waves cascaded down from her crown. Now that it was styled, it hung just above her shoulders. Not since she was a baby had she had hair this short.

"Wipe that frown off your face, missy," Ava said to her with a smile.

"What if he doesn't like it?"

"Pish-posh." Ava waved her hand to dismiss the idea.

"He always says he likes my hair wild and everywhere. When he kisses me he likes to brush it back from my face. It's always been such a sweet thing and now he can't do that."

Ava's face split into what may have been her most honest smile that day. A throaty laugh escaped her as she tried to speak. "Tell me more."

"No, please stop right there." Jemma gave a dramatic frown and put her hand up to stop her from speaking. "I don't want to hear that conversation go any further."

Emmie's face flamed. "Oh dear, sorry Jemma. I don't know what's gotten into me lately. It's like I'm turning into her." Emmie laughed and hitched her thumb toward her best friend.

"And I couldn't be prouder. You are going to knock him off his feet. I'm so glad I get to see his reaction," Ava rambled on and on, but Emmie couldn't hear her. She was too lost in her own thoughts. With everything else going on in the world, why was she so anxious over her hair? She didn't hate it, not exactly. She just wasn't comfortable with it yet.

The sun was setting and street lamps lit the way as they pulled under the little awning attached to Silas's apartment building. She glanced at the dress box under her feet. She had to change into that fancy dress. She'd forgotten all about that. Emmie took a deep breath and refocused herself. She looked back at her dress box and her friends, thought about her time that day at the Bell House, and sighed. A word came to mind. Perspective, she needed to put this in perspective. She was blessed with family and friends. Emotions and reactions were a choice. She would choose to be thankful.

She was surprised to find the apartment empty. Silas must be running late. Emmie made her way to the large windows and looked out at the water. Even at dusk she could spot boats making their way across the lake. She bet Silas loved to watch out this window just like that little boy in the book she had given him. Her face flushed with the memory. She laughed aloud at herself. Maybe it would get him thinking. Maybe it would let him know she was in this for the long haul. They had been through a lot in the past few months, both good and bad. She thought back to Ava's words, come rain or s.h.i.+ne. That's what family was about and that's how she felt about Silas too. She smiled, looking out at the water. She loved the little things she was learning about him. Emmie looked around at the beauty of his apartment. It was so modern and fancy. She wondered how important this place was to him. Her heart sank when she realized she had nothing this nice to offer him at home. When he stayed with her he had to pee in a pot or go outside, for goodness sake. Did he feel as out of place in her tiny town as she did in his big city? She'd never thought of that before. If they did stay together long enough for him to read that book to their child, she wondered where he would be reading, in Illinois or Kentucky?

"Emmie, there's a note for you," Jemma said, standing next to a desk in the corner of the room.

"For me?" she asked, walking over to the girl.

"Yes, it's an odd message though. It only says 'Emmie, If I'm not home in time, answer the phone. S.M.'" Jemma frowned.

All three girls turned to stare at the fancy phone on the corner of his desk. It looked just like the one she'd seen him on earlier that day at the office. They watched it for a few moments before anyone spoke.

"I wonder who is going to call and why I am to answer it?" Emmie directed her question to Jemma. She seemed to be the one who knew the most about the events that had been planned for today.

"Honestly, this wasn't on the plan," Jemma said, confused.

Emmie nodded, accepting her answer, and looked back at the phone anxiously. "Well, you know what they say about a watched pot."

The girls looked at her with blank expressions.

"A watched pot . . . it never boils . . . like the phone," Emmie tried to explain.

When the girl's expressions didn't change she mumbled, "Never mind."

At that moment the phone emitted a shrill ring and all three girls jumped.

Emmie went for the phone as fast as her hand could make it. She put the receiver to her ear and spoke softly, "h.e.l.lo."

"h.e.l.lo," a deep, gruff voice said from the other end.

"Walter," Emmie shouted.

"Yeah, it's me. You ain't gotta be yelling at me, girl." His words were harsh but full of laughter.

"Sorry, how are you? How are Max and Mae? Any plans for when you'll be home?" Emmie fired one question after the other at him, so quickly he couldn't answer before she asked another.

"Hold your horses there, girl. Let me take a breath for a cotton pickin' second," he snapped back.

Emmie laughed.

"So, how are you holding up? Are they treating you okay?" he asked, firing off a few questions of his own.

She a.s.sured him she was doing well, but she couldn't mistake the sound of anxiety in his voice. Walter was worried about her being so far away from home.

"You talked to Bo?" he asked.

"No. You're the first person from home who's called me. I wrote Bo a letter to check on Spotty, but I haven't had a chance to get it mailed yet. Have you?" she asked.

Walter gave a noncommittal grunt. She knew that sound. That meant there was a story there he didn't want to share.

"What's he gotten into now?" she asked with a laugh.

He grunted again before he spoke. "The way I hear it, you've both been into some stuff. Hear you got into a mess of things baking him some pies," he said, annoyed.

Mess of things while baking him pies? Oh, no. How did Walter know? Emmie stood frozen unsure how to reply. Especially because she knew anything said over the phone was not likely to be private. Anyone could be listening in.

"Well, things are better. How'd you know I had a mess when I baked the pies?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Ava frowned at her from across the room. "Baking who pies?"

She silenced her friend with a finger and turned her back to her.

Walter sighed. "There has been enough ruckus to make me ask some questions."

"What do you mean, a ruckus?"

"You need to talk to your boy," he said.

"You know he won't tell me," she said.

"Then find a newspaper," Walter answered.

Emmie's mind thought back to the Kentucky Journal on Silas's desk. It was the paper she'd hit him with. She'd meant to ask him but forgot. He had told her he needed it when he took it away. What had been put in that paper, and how was it connected to the incident in the cabin?

"Okay. Does Silas know this is what you are calling to tell me?" she asked curiously. If Silas wanted her to know something was happening at home why didn't he mention it today when she had the newspaper in her hands?

"No, I don't guess he does. Silas said he was planning something nice for you today and that I should call at this time. He was real particular about it. He said he knew you missed us," Walter said quietly. "We miss you too, girl. Come home to us soon. I think Max would like to see you, too."

"Is Max still doing okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I suppose." Walter paused before he added, "Mae keeps up with all that stuff better than me. He's doing good with that new shoe though. Keeping his balance better."

Emmie couldn't help but feel he was keeping something from her, though. He had stumbled over the answer. It had to be awful watching Max struggle to do things that came so easily to other kids. Walter and Mae were making a huge sacrifice staying up in Louisville away from everything they knew. They were hanging on to the thread of hope that those doctors would give Max a shot at a better life. Emmie admired them. She didn't want to push the old man to talk about things he didn't want to.

"Well, I'm glad to hear he's walking well. Tell him I'm proud of him and he better be reading each day, okay?"

A moment of dead air pa.s.sed as both tried to think of something to say. It was strange to talk to Walter like this on the phone.

"So, you got any big news to share with me?" Walter asked. He spit out the words like they were fire in his mouth.

"Um . . . I got my hair cut," she said unsure how to answer.

"You ain't got nothing bigger than a haircut to tell me about?" he asked, annoyed.

"Ava is getting married sooner than we expected. Maybe within the next few weeks," she said, making the news sound nothing but happy.

"Nothing else?"

"Not that I can think of . . ." she said, confused.

Walter gave another grunt.

"Sorry, if I'm being daft here, Walter. Is there something that you were expecting me to say?"

"You just tell your boy that I ain't a patient man. I'm expecting some news bigger than a haircut the next time I talk to you," Walter said. She couldn't tell if he was teasing.

"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.