Читать книгу The Forgotten Daughter - Lauri Robinson - Страница 11
ОглавлениеScooter stepped aside so Josie could see past him. Having recognized Gloria Kasper’s voice, he hadn’t turned around. Anger once again stirred his insides. The fury had left him for a few minutes, while he and Josie had been dancing. Now, seeing the shadows back in her eyes, he wanted to tell Gloria the same thing he’d told his mother. Leave Josie alone. Find someone else to do their dirty work.
“Hello, Eric,” Gloria greeted him.
He bit the tip of his tongue before turning about. “Hello.” The bitterness in Gloria’s eyes told him exactly what he’d already known. His mother had told the other woman what he thought. What he knew. Not that it would matter to Gloria. She had her own agenda. As always. Short, round and gray-haired, she looked as fierce as an angry badger as she strolled toward them.
“I know you won’t mind, Eric,” she said formidably, using his given name as if that gave her authority. “I need to speak with Josie.”
“Actually, Gloria, I do mind,” Scooter said. Normally, out of respect, he addressed her as Mrs. Kasper. He wasn’t feeling overly respectful right now. “Josie and I are busy.”
Gloria’s wrinkled lips pursed while a gasp sounded from Josie.
“Well, I never,” Gloria snapped, her nostrils flaring like a bull’s. “I insist on speaking with Josie this very moment.” She reached out and grabbed Josie’s arm, tugging her forward. “What I have to say is extremely important.”
Scooter grabbed Josie’s other arm. “I can’t believe it’s that important.”
“Eric,” Gloria snarled, “don’t do this.” She pulled Josie toward her again.
He tugged her back his way. “I could say the same to you, Gloria. Now is not the time or place.”
Gloria gave Josie another hard pull. “Young man, I—”
“You’ll what?” Scooter challenged, pulling Josie back.
“I—”
“Stop!” Josie twisted until neither of them held her arms. “Stop it, both of you.”
Regret washed over Scooter. He was acting like an idiot, to both Gloria and Josie. The older woman wasn’t bad; she’d helped a lot of people, including his family when they’d needed it, and continued to assist others. He just didn’t want her sending Josie out on another run. Not today. Not ever. It had grown too dangerous, yet he seemed to be the only one to realize that.
Josie glanced between him and Gloria. The sorrow in her eyes stabbed at him, and left him feeling about as low as a flat tire. He had no right to step in, but his intuition said he had to.
“I have to talk with Gloria, Scooter,” Josie said, almost apologetically. “I won’t be long.”
He’d fully expected her to tell him to get lost. It wasn’t as if she’d invited him to wait for her, but what she’d said could give that impression. “I’ll wait here,” he said.
A tiny smile tugged at her lips and she shook her head. “Go back to the party. I’ll see you there.”
He shook his head. “I’ll wait here.”
Gloria rushed Josie through the door before any more could be said. It was just as well. Scooter didn’t have much more to say. He wouldn’t until he figured out a way to stop Josie. Telling her to stop wasn’t working. Josie had a mind of her own. He’d always admired that about her, long before any of this nonsense had started.
Even as a kid, Josie had caught and held his attention. Although she’d always been quiet and thoughtful, when riled, Josie had stood up for the underdog like no other. That had all been years ago, before he’d left school to become the family breadwinner.
Whenever he heard someone complain about how slowly time seems to go by, he wanted to tell them to start paying a few bills. They’d soon see how fast the first of the month rolled around, how quickly another month’s rent was due and how gallons of milk could disappear as if they’d never been there in the first place.
He’d never known his family was poor. At least his parents had never complained about it. After his father died, Scooter quickly discovered the few dollars he made delivering groceries on his motorized bike wasn’t enough to keep a family of mice in cheese. His hobby of tinkering with motors came in handy then. The location of their house along the highway played in his favor, too. Little by little he’d added services, but it wasn’t until Nightingale’s took off that he’d started making enough money to truly live on. That had been a godsend, and he knew it could disappear just as fast. Without Roger Nightingale and the business the man brought in, this entire area would dry up faster than yesterday’s bread left uncovered on the counter.
A lot had happened in the past ten years. He’d been fourteen when his father had died, and three years later, his brother-in-law had been killed while serving in the army overseas. Maize had just given birth to Jonas when they’d received word about John. Shortly thereafter, Maize could no longer afford to stay in the house she and John had rented since getting married, and she had moved back home. When Jonas had started school three years ago, Maize had gone to work over at the Plantation, and had come up missing less than a month later.
Another bout of disgust, or guilt, assaulted Scooter’s guts. He wasn’t exactly sure what had happened back then, but he knew Gloria had been behind Maize’s return. Scooter understood he was indebted to Gloria for bringing his sister home, but he couldn’t let what had happened to Maize happen to Josie. Gloria had to realize not even Roger Nightingale was in the same league as the gangsters that were responsible for the girls working the docks in Duluth.
It really was a tangled mess.
If Josie was captured, there was no guarantee she’d be rescued like his sister had been. The Ladies Aid Society his mother and Gloria were associated with was the way Josie had become involved. Dressed in britches, she visited the shipyards of Duluth regularly to pass out rubbers to the women working the docks, selling their wares to the sailors.
None of this was something a Ladies Aid Society should be a part of.
It wasn’t all of them. Just a select few knew the activities taking place under the concealment of their meetings. Most of the women thought all of the members were busy throwing birthday parties and putting on bird-watching symposiums. A good number would faint dead if they learned about Josie hauling condoms up to Duluth every Tuesday.
He’d only learned about it because his mother had told him a car had been delivered to the station that needed to go faster. Seeing the vehicle was Nightingale’s hadn’t surprised him. He’d rebuilt carburetors, put in larger radiators and fitted extra fuel tanks in all of the automobiles Roger Nightingale’s hired men drove. A month later he’d discovered the latest coupe he’d worked on was being driving by Josie. Bronco, Roger’s number one man, had brought the car over to get fuel, as he did for all of the cars the daughters drove, and had mentioned Josie sure used a lot of gas going to her Ladies Aid meetings.
Scooter’s stomach fell almost as hard and fast now as it had in the past. He should have put a stop to it then. That had been his first mistake. His second had been keeping his mouth shut all this time.
“Hey, Scooter.”
“Hey, Dave,” Scooter replied, as Josie’s uncle walked through the manicured trees. Dave Sutton lived in one of the bungalows on the other side of the pine trees. Not wanting to have to come up with an excuse as to what he was doing hanging around the resort’s back door, Scooter asked, “How’s your Chevy running?”
“Good. Those new tires you put on sure made a difference.”
“Glad to hear it. Firestone makes a good tire, but only Fords come off the assembly line with them. Henry Ford knew what he was doing when he formed that partnership,” Scooter said, trying not to look at the door behind him. He should never have let Josie go with Gloria. They had to be up to something.
“It’s all about who you know, not what you know,” Dave said before he asked, “How are Maize and Jonas?”
“Good,” Scooter answered. The baseball bat, mitt and ball that had been left on the family’s porch a couple of weeks ago had been from Dave. Just like several other birthday and Christmas gifts that had magically appeared on their porch over the years for Scooter’s nephew. For whatever reason, Dave didn’t want anyone to know he was the one that dropped them off. “Jonas had a birthday a couple of weeks ago, turned eight.”
“Time flies,” Dave said. “I remember when John got the letter from Maize saying the baby had arrived and that it was a boy.”
A moment of silence spread between them. Dave and John had been shipped overseas together, and though the other man never spoke of it, Scooter had heard Dave was at John’s side when he died. Even though Dave had been Josie’s mother’s brother, he’d moved back in with the Nightingales when he returned home, and now was Roger’s top salesman. He carried around a suitcase full of resort brochures, but sample bottles of whiskey—Minnesota 13—were tucked inside hidden compartments. The home brew was better than the stuff the Canadians made and had become world-renowned. Thanks to Roger.
Everyone knew that, but no one mentioned it. A man might as well cut his own arm off if he did. The entire area thrived because of Roger’s business, and no one wanted things to go back to the way they’d been.
“Jonas is here somewhere,” Scooter said, still trying to keep the conversation off what he was doing. He nodded toward the crowd that littered the slope leading toward the lake. “He’s excited to stay late enough to see the fireworks.”
“It is the Fourth of July,” Dave said. “And those nieces of mine outdid themselves with this party.”
“They sure enough did,” Scooter agreed, glancing toward the door.
“I’ll mosey around, see if I can find Jonas and say hi,” Dave said.
“Try the beach,” Scooter said. “He was convinced he’d learn how to swim today. Otherwise just listen for the popping noise. I bought him several rolls of firecrackers.”
“I bet that made him happy.”
“It sure did,” Scooter said. The firecrackers were only a nickel for a hundred, and he’d gladly paid the minimal price. There had been times in his life where a nickel had seemed like a dollar. Now, thanks to Roger Nightingale’s success, his fueling station allowed him to spend money a bit frivolously once in a while. He’d picked up several boxes of sparklers, too, for Jonas to share with his friends later on in the evening.
“I’ll see you around,” Scooter said, stepping closer to the door. Josie should have returned by now.
Dave nodded and waved as he took his leave. Scooter grabbed the doorknob but didn’t have time to pull it open.
“Hey, Scooter, hold up.”
His fingers clenched the door handle before he let it loose and Scooter pulled up a smile for the couple walking hand in hand toward him. Getting hit by a Studebaker couldn’t have shocked him more than the sight of Brock and Ginger pulling up to his gas pumps that morning. He and Brock had been friends since childhood and Scooter had questioned if he’d ever see Brock again when his old pal had headed down to Chicago to perform on the radio several weeks ago.
Brock had defied Roger Nightingale by refusing to perform solely at the resort and leaving town, which had been an act few men would have the guts to follow through on. Marrying Ginger, Roger’s youngest daughter, could have gotten Brock killed, too. Scooter figured Brock didn’t have a chip on his shoulder; he had an angel.
“Where’s Josie?” Ginger asked.
Scooter gestured toward the door. “Inside, talking with Gloria Kasper.”
Ginger shot a concerned glance at Brock and then asked, “Why? Is she not feeling well?”
It was still hard to believe Brock and Ginger were married. Then again, Scooter had been shocked to see Norma Rose at his gas station with Ty Bradshaw earlier this summer, and again when he’d heard Twyla had gone flying with Forrest in his airplane. A lot had changed this summer. Maybe all that contributed to his urgency to make Josie stop her Duluth runs. The fact her sisters weren’t around to keep her in line meant it was up to him.
He doubted any of the sisters knew of Josie’s activities. They’d have told their father and Roger would have put a stop to it all long ago. “She’s fine,” he answered. “It was probably something to do with the party.”
“I can’t believe all that’s happened in the short time we’ve been gone,” Ginger said. “It’s like I left one world and returned to another.” Her sparkling eyes were once again gazing up at Brock.
The two of them looked as love-struck as two doves on a telephone wire. Feeling a bit like an intruder, Scooter looked the other way when Brock leaned down to kiss her, and didn’t turn back until Ginger spoke.
“I’m going to find Josie,” she said. “The dance-off is about to start.”
The prize for the winner of the dance contest was a hundred bucks. Not for the couple to share, but a hundred bucks each. Scooter had read that in the advertisements. Add Babe Ruth, Twyla’s wedding and fireworks, and it was no wonder half the state was in attendance. Those who lived out of town and couldn’t find rooms to rent had set up tents in empty lots and backyards. This would be an event the town would remember for a long time.
When Ginger disappeared through the side door, Scooter once again attempted to shift his attention off how long Josie had been gone. “I thought I was seeing things when you pulled into my place this morning.”
Brock laughed. “Your face said as much.”
“That new car you’re driving says things turned out real swell for you in Chicago.” Scooter stated the obvious.
“If I hadn’t lived it, I wouldn’t have believed it.” Brock’s gaze shot back to the door where Ginger had disappeared. “Some days I still don’t believe it.”
Scooter playfully punched his friend in the arm. “We all knew you’d make it big.”
“I don’t think I would have if not for Ginger,” Brock said. “She’s the reason we’re home. When she heard about Twyla’s wedding, she told Oscar—Oscar Goldman, he’s the owner of the radio station, that we were coming home. She promised to bring back a case of baseballs signed by Babe Ruth to give away on the radio.” Brock laughed. “She already has two cases, signed, in the trunk.”
Scooter chuckled. “I’m sure Babe Ruth couldn’t say no to Ginger.” Curious, he asked, “How’d she end up in Chicago?”
“Now, that, my friend, is a long story,” Brock said. “And calling Roger to tell him I’d found her under the tarp of my truck when I’d stopped for fuel on the other side of Wisconsin was one of the scariest things I’d ever done.”
“Under the tarp of your truck?” Scooter shook his head. “I put the tarp on your truck while you were locking horns with Roger about leaving.”
“I know,” Brock said. “And she climbed in right afterward.” Growing serious, Brock added, “Don’t let any one of those Nightingale girls fool you. They’re sneaky when they want to be.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Scooter mumbled under his breath.
“You dating Josie?” Brock asked.
“Nope.”
When Scooter didn’t elaborate, Brock said, “I guess I assumed you were when Roger called you and her over with the rest of us.”
“I was just standing next to her,” Scooter explained. “A case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Brock grinned. “If you say so.”
“I say so, all right,” Scooter said, withholding the truth. Trying to keep Josie from being shipped to some foreign land came nowhere near dating her. Changing the subject, he asked, “When are you heading back to Chicago?”
“Monday,” Brock said. “Want to spend some time with my mom and dad tomorrow.”
That reminded Scooter of another case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Last year Brock’s dad had been shot while delivering milk down in St. Paul. A raid had been happening nearby and the bullet that struck Rodney Ness had left the man paralyzed from the waist down.
“Ma said he’s been getting out a lot more lately,” Brock said. “Says that wheelchair has made all the difference.”
Scooter guessed it wasn’t so much the chair that made the real difference for Rodney as the fact Brock had bought it with earnings he’d made by singing on the radio. He figured Brock knew that, as well. Rodney Ness couldn’t stop talking about his radio-star son.
They conversed a bit longer, about nothing in particular. All the while, both of them kept sending curious glances toward the door. When Ginger appeared by herself, Brock grinned while Scooter frowned.
“I can’t find her anywhere,” Ginger said. “Norma Rose will be furious. She said none of us could win the prize, that wouldn’t look right, but we all have to participate in the contest.”
“That didn’t stop her from winning the last dance-off,” Scooter said, when really he wanted to ask Ginger where she’d looked. The place was massive, with three stories covered in inch-thick red carpet, varnished oak wainscoting and stair rails, and velvet curtains covering more windows than a man could count. It was a palace in comparison to his humble home, and Josie had to be in there somewhere.
“You know Norma Rose,” Ginger said.
Not as well as he knew Josie. Unable to stop himself, he asked, “You checked everywhere for Josie?”
“Yes,” Ginger answered. “The offices, the bedrooms, the kitchen.”
“Maybe they went out another door,” Brock suggested.
Scooter spun around to stare at the garage full of cars, all owned by Roger. Surely he’d have heard if one had started. “You look ’round the back,” he said. “I’ll go out front.”
Brock grabbed his arm before Scooter had taken more than a step. “What do you know that we don’t?”
Scooter was sick of lying, but didn’t have much choice. “Nothing. Other than the wrath of Norma Rose.”
Brock’s gaze said he didn’t believe that, but his friend must have chosen not to say more in front of Ginger.
“Bring her straight to the dance floor if you find her,” Ginger said. “We’ll do the same.”
Scooter didn’t bother answering and kicked his feet into a sprint. The garage was full, every car in its place, including Josie’s red-and-black coupe. Walter, another one of Roger’s men, was there.
“Have you seen Josie?” Scooter asked.
The portly man dropped the book he’d been reading and leaped up from his chair just inside the door. “No, why? What’s happened?”
Scooter attempted to disguise a bit of his distress. “Nothing,” he said, heading for Josie’s car. Unlatching the hood, he lifted it and reached in to disconnect the ignition wire. Closing the hood, he told Walter, “I’m making sure it stays that way. Don’t tell her I was here.”
Walter lifted a brow.
“Trust me.” Walking out of the open doorway, Scooter spun around. “Don’t let her in another car, either.”
“I’ll pull the keys,” Walter said, “but does Roger know?”
“There’s no place she needs to go today,” Scooter said. “Roger will agree with that.” Turning around, he headed for the front door of the resort. Cars of all makes and models filled the parking lot. Some he recognized as belonging to regular customers, others he’d never seen before. Josie could jump in and drive away in any number of them; more than half had the keys sticking in the ignition.
Scooter shook his head as he entered the resort’s double front doors. Someday people would learn to take their keys with them. Car theft didn’t happen in these parts, but someday it would.
He checked the offices, the ballroom, the kitchen and storerooms, along with every other door he came upon before taking the back staircase to the second floor. Halfway down the hall he came to a heavy door that obviously separated family rooms from the rest of the guest rooms.
Opening and closing doors, he concluded whose room was whose by the colors of the walls. Pink for Ginger, red for Norma Rose, green for Twyla and white for Josie. The rooms were empty and he didn’t bother checking the third floor. Josie wouldn’t be up there.
Scooter jogged back down the hall and the staircase that led into the ballroom. Then, with his footsteps echoing, he crossed the floor and passed the empty bar to exit the building onto the balcony. Searching for a pond-green dress, he found Twyla and Norma Rose, and then Ginger, although the youngest sister was wearing a red polka-dot dress. But there was no sign of Josie. His mother, however, was standing next to the cake table on the far side of the dance floor.
“Hello, Eric,” she greeted him as he arrived at her side. “I’m getting Jonas another piece of cake. He’s certainly enjoying the day.”
His nephew was usually at the top of Scooter’s list, but even Jonas had to take second place right now. “Where’s Josie?” Scooter asked. “And don’t tell me you don’t know. Gloria ushered her into the house.” Adding gravity to his tone, he added, “To talk.”
His mother opened her mouth, but closed it as she glanced around. When she turned back to him, she leaned closer to whisper, “This is none of your affair, Eric.”
This was the woman who’d given birth to him and kept him alive through those days when food was short and heat almost nonexistent, yet, at this moment, she was nothing more than a barrier. “Where is she, Mother? Today is not a day to send her off on one of your missions. I won’t put up with it and neither will Roger.”
Startled to the point her slice of cake toppled off the plate in her hand, she asked, “You haven’t told him, have you?”
Scooter didn’t answer, just stared her down.
One of the many girls hired to keep guests happy by serving glasses of their choice and keeping the place neat and tidy appeared with a new slice of cake on a clean plate. She took the plate from his mother’s hand and, after scooping the cake off the ground, the girl disappeared just as quickly as she’d come.
Thankfully, for he didn’t want a family showdown in the middle of the party, his mother realized how serious he was.
“She’s with Gloria. In the Willow.”
All of the resort’s twenty cabins along the shoreline were named, and he knew the Willow was settled between two large willow trees among the north set of cabins. Spinning around and forcing his feet to move at a normal pace in order to not draw attention to himself, Scooter headed toward the pathway that led to the cabins. All the while, his heart rate increased.
Once the trees hid him from most of the partygoers, he increased his speed. His mind raced, too, telling him over and over that he shouldn’t have let Josie out of his sight. That had been his plan and he should have stuck to it. Shortly after collecting her from Duluth, a truck driver with a flat tire had pulled into his station. The truck was from the huge US Steel plant in Duluth. While working on the tire, Scooter had mentioned he’d recently been in Duluth. The man asked if he’d visited the docks and the girls there. With a few innocent-sounding questions, Scooter had learned all sorts of information from that truck driver and none of it was anything Josie should be involved in.
Upon arrival at the little green-and-white cabin, he leaped up the two steps and threw open the door.
Gloria was still jumping up from a chair at the table when Scooter slammed the door shut behind him. “Where’s Josie?”
A single glance toward the bedroom door told him all he needed to know.
“You can’t go in there,” Gloria declared, as he started in direction of the door.
“You can’t stop me.” He was already pushing open the door, and what he saw not only stopped him in his tracks, but it also sent his temper soaring. “Get your dress back on.”
* * *
Josie finished buttoning the top of her white blouse before spinning around. A combination of anger and relief surged across her stomach. Going with anger, she planted her hands on the waistband of her dungarees. “I will not.”
“Yes, you will.”
“No, I won’t.” This sounded a lot like the conversation she’d had with Gloria a short time ago. That argument she’d lost. This one, she wouldn’t. Scooter had no say in what she did or when she did it, and it was beyond time he realized that.
He strode forward. “You either change back into your dress, or I will.”
“Go ahead,” she said. “It’s an ugly dress, but I doubt it’ll fit you.”
The anger in his eyes was enough to make her flinch, but he didn’t notice her reaction, not with Gloria storming into the room.
“Eric, this is none of your business,” the woman insisted. “Now leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, “and neither is Josie.”
Josie had half a mind to tell him he was wasting his breath, but some people just had to learn that on their own. She had learned it years ago. Offering an opinion when no one was willing to listen was as useless as raking leaves during a storm.
“Do you honestly think she can sneak away on one of your missions today?” he was asking Gloria. “The entire family is looking for her. The dance-off is about to start, and Roger wants her on the floor along with her sisters—
Gloria frowned. “What dance-off?”
Since the doctor was now looking her way, Josie answered, “It’s for the guests.”
“Not just for the guests,” Scooter said none too quietly. “Your sisters say it can’t start until you’re there.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Gloria asked.
Josie wanted to scream. She had told Gloria sneaking away today would be too difficult, but when it came to her cause, Gloria dismissed any obstacles in her way. Normally, Josie did, too, but today things just hadn’t felt right. Hence the relief at Scooter’s arrival that softened her spine. She wouldn’t tell anyone, or let it show, but the thought of traveling to Duluth today frightened her. In all honesty, the past couple of missions had scared her—ever since she’d been arrested for speeding.
“You must have known about it,” Scooter said to Gloria. “It’s been in all the advertisements about the party.”
“Blast it,” Gloria said as she took to pacing the floor. “With Francine Wilks and her number one henchman here, we have a chance of discovering where those girls are.”
Josie flinched, and noted how Scooter noticed this time. He was sharp, and Gloria should have realized how much information her babbling was giving away. Then again, Gloria was no fool, and most likely knew exactly what she was doing. To be fair, Scooter probably knew that, too.
He took Gloria’s arm with one hand and pointed at the pea-green dress with the other. “Put that back on,” he said, while pulling the other woman to the door. “And be quick about it.”
Josie feared quick wouldn’t be quick enough. It would still give Scooter time to question Gloria about their activities. Francine Wilks had a warehouse in Duluth where she kept girls “that weren’t ready,” as the madam had put it. Francine didn’t mind her working girls receiving the free condoms Josie passed out along the waterfront, but the woman didn’t let anyone near her captives.
Scooter didn’t need to know any of that. Josie headed for the door as he pulled it closed, and she grabbed the knob before the door shut.
“You can leave, Scooter.” Josie knew he wouldn’t leave just because she told him to. “Please go tell my sisters I’ll be right there. I don’t want them looking for me.”
“I’ll wait,” he said. “Deliver you to the dance floor myself.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said.
“It won’t be necessary for me to put that dress back on you, either,” he said staunchly, “but if you don’t hurry up, I will.”
“Hurry up, Josie,” Gloria said. “I’ll keep Scooter company while you change.”
That was exactly what she didn’t want to happen. She didn’t need Scooter learning more than he already knew about her Tuesday adventures. He’d never understand.
“Are you waiting for help?” he asked.
“No,” she snapped.
“Then get dressed.”
Josie slammed the door. Maybe he and Gloria should pair up and leave her completely out of things. It had gotten to be more than she’d bargained for lately.
Her anger melted away like the swan-shaped ice sculpture near the fountain. The ice had yielded to the sun before Twyla and Forrest’s wedding, and now Josie had to yield, too, to the truth that things had only become more than she’d bargained for because of her.
The rules were that she passed out condoms and brought back any bits of information she gathered. However, when one of Francine’s girls had told Josie about the warehouse, she’d had to investigate. One of the guards had seen her sneaking around and had given chase. Afraid her little car couldn’t outrun his larger one, she’d taken the road that led directly past the police station, hoping an officer would see her speeding by.
One had.
She’d been arrested.
And she’d called Scooter to come and get her.
