Shine On

by Jewell, Allison J.

  Chapter Three

  Emmie tiptoed through the house as quietly as she could, not wanting to catch the attention of Molly and Al. She was sure her face was flaming red and having to answer questions about her blush would only make her feel worse. She went straight to Ava’s bedroom and changed into her dress. Ava entered the room a few minutes later with a smile painted on her face. Emmie looked away and continued pinning up her wet curls.

  “I wish you would have just taken my extra swimsuit. You really are too old to be swimming in your underwear.” Ava laughed.

  “Yeah, says the girl who was outside in less fabric than a napkin,” Emmie said.

  “Yes, but my napkin isn’t see-through when wet,” Ava countered.

  “Point taken. From now on, swimsuit it is.” She nodded in agreement.

  “So who is that down there?” Emmie didn’t think there was anyone in Ava’s family she hadn’t met over the years.

  “The first fool that talked to you was Patrick or Trick, ignore him. The guy that gave you the jacket is Silas. They’re my cousins. Mom’s brother’s boys,” Ava answered.

  “Girls, dinner’s ready,” Molly called from downstairs.

  “Are you going to be okay? No permanent damage?” Ava asked half kidding.

  Emmie shrugged, “Not the worst thing that’s happened in the last few months.”

  She grabbed Silas’s jacket and headed down the stairs. The boys were already seated at the table when the girls walked in the dining room. Everyone’s plates were already full and an easy conversation filled the air by the time they made it downstairs. Emmie nonchalantly dropped Silas’s coat on the back of the chair and took her seat next to Ava.

  Al’s eyebrow arched in question. He opened his mouth to say something. Molly smiled and put her hand on his, silencing him with a look. He frowned, glancing at Silas but he said nothing. Molly formally introduced her nephews to Emmie, as if nothing had happened. Silas nodded hello playing along with the introduction but Trick was not so polite. Emmie swore his face may actually split open, he had such a wide smile. She felt shades of embarrassment coloring her cheeks again. Thankfully the phone at that moment started to ring.

  The guys at the table visibly tensed as Al walked over to answer the call. His voice was clipped and quiet. She couldn’t make out what he was saying. Vince and Silas moved nearer to him. When he put the receiver down he spoke to them quietly. They nodded. Silas motioned for Trick and Gabe to join him. Vince headed for the door.

  “Excuse us, Aunt Molly. Dinner was great but we’ve got to head back to the office,” Silas said.

  “Oh Al, surely they don’t need to go right this second. We just sat down,” Molly sighed, annoyed with her husband.

  Al put a hand up to silence her. Molly sighed and sat back down, “They’ll be back soon.”

  Then he walked the guys outside, returning a few minutes later alone. Emmie looked over at Ava with an unspoken question. She shrugged. Dinner passed in forced conversation.

  After the meal the girls relaxed on the upstairs sleeping porch. It felt so normal. Talking, laughing, and listening as the birds’ songs turned into the hums of nighttime bugs. They relaxed in a comfortable silence for a while before Ava began to speak. Emmie expected her to turn the conversation to the pool shenanigans this afternoon but she didn’t. Instead she focused on the topic that Emmie had spent the last few months avoiding.

  “Emmie,” Ava started, “what happened to Ronnie? We heard there was some kind of accident.”

  She took a long breath. “I don’t really know, Ava. Sheriff Drake found him in his car. It hit a tree and caught on fire, I guess.”

  “Do you think he’d been into his ’shine again?” One of Ava’s red pin curls came loose and fell into her eye. She brushed it back and looked at her friend intently.

  “He was always in the moonshine. It was late at night. I was already in bed.” She picked at a thread on the quilt she was wrapped in.

  “You think he may have been up to something?” Ava arched an eyebrow. When Emmie didn’t say anything, she continued.

  “Remember that time we found those jars in your cellar? I’m sure they were moonshine,” Ava said.

  “Yeah, well. We know he drank. No surprise there, Ava,” she said.

  “I suppose you’re right. I’m trying to think why he was driving around those fields after midnight.” She pondered for a moment. Then she immediately changed subjects—as her brain was often inclined to do. But Emmie’s mind didn’t leave the topic so easily. Why was he in those fields so late at night? That was the question she’d refused to let herself spend too much time thinking about the past months.

  ***********

  Ava asked her to stay the night but she refused. Something about her house kept her grounded.

  Spotty met them at the end of the road, barking a welcome. Her black lab mix had one large white spot on his right eye and another on his back. When she was five she decided she wanted a baby brother, so Ronnie showed up one day with a pup. He said it was the best he could do. It was the only thing he ever gave her.

  The dog met her as she exited the car, licking her hand and sniffing at the leftovers Molly had packed up. The night was warm and the moon was full. Emmie waved bye to Al. She locked up, got ready for bed, and settled in, waiting for sleep to claim her. But it didn’t. She closed her eyes and her mind played a picture show with vivid color—a perfect vision of the day Ronnie died.

  “Emma,” Ronnie shouted. Her pulse quickened. Was he already up? She hated mornings when he rose early. Usually his ’shine headaches kept him in bed until after dawn.

  “Emma, you better answer when I call your name,” he called from downstairs.

  “Sorry, Ronnie. I was just on my way down.” Her bare feet thumped down the stairs, trembling hands gripping the loose handrail.

  “It’s about time, girl,” he barked.

  Ronnie looked the same as he always had, maybe a little grayer around the ears, maybe a little more wrinkled around the eyes, but basically the same. His mouth was still set in a frown; his hands were calloused from working at the lumber mill. His dishwater-blond hair was cut short to his head. She moved around him to the old coffee pot.

  “Ya ain’t even started making the breakfast yet?” he sneered and jerked her back by the neck of her hand-me-down cotton dress. “Girl,” he breathed in her ear from behind, “what’d ya think I keep ya around here for, hmm?”

  Spotty came up and nipped at his hand. The dog yipped as Ronnie’s work boot met his fur. Emmie grabbed Spotty and pushed him out the front door. When Ronnie was in this kind of mood it was better to get the dog away from him.

  “Forget about it,” he huffed as he put on his hat. “I’ll be expecting supper tonight but I’ll be home late. Gotta work outside on the farm for a bit. You can just leave my dinner on the stove.”

  Those were the last words she heard out of him. He was always working out on the farm but there was never anything to show for it. He let go of the garden six years ago after Mama died of the flu. He sold the only cow two years ago. The land was overgrown. She tossed and turned most of the night. Her brain wrestled trying to put it all together. She hung in the balance of sleep and awareness for hours, thinking it through.

  “Oh my heavens,” Emmie said aloud. Spotty turned his head listening for something outside.

  When she did not speak immediately, he plopped back down on the covers. “The jars of ’shine, the late nights, always outside but nothing to show, the woods—that’s it,” she said aloud. Part of her wanted to toss off the covers and go look right this second. She knew it was a foolish idea. Dawn was approaching. So, she closed her eyes and made a plan instead.

  Chapter Four

  “What are ya doin’ here in the middle of the night, girl?” Walter said, rubbing his long beard.

  “I told you. I’m here to help. I’ve put it together. I know what Ronnie was doing out here. I’m not some kind of fool,” Emmie said, looking around t
he dark cave that was hidden in the hills near the back of her property line.

  This had been her third night out here roaming around the woods. She was about to give up when it hit her that she hadn’t checked the only spot on their property that included a creek—the cave.

  As she got closer she could feel it in her gut. She just knew she was right. Emmie did not know exactly what she was looking for out here: some old barrels, a still, or a person. Stumbling around the leaves she could see the faint glow of an old lantern coming from inside the dark entrance.

  She’d never been so relieved when she smelled the familiar scent of Walt’s sweet pipe tobacco and heard him whistling “Old Dan Tucker.” He looked startled as she stepped into the mouth of the cave. Spotty ran right up to him, wagging his tail. Emmie wished she felt that at ease.

  “You better get back to ya house. It ain’t right for you to be walking around here at night. There’s wolves in this forest, girl,” Walter scowled.

  “There are no wolves in my woods, Walt. You sound like that grandmother in Little Red Riding Hood,” Emmie said, squaring her shoulders for the fight. Walter slowly closed the distance between them. The uncomfortable silence that passed almost made her lose her nerve.

  “Does this look like a fairy tale to you? There ain’t nothing for you in this cave,” he said.

  “I know what’s been going on. I put it together. Ronnie’s moonshine, all those late nights out here on the farm, with nothing ever to show. This is a still isn’t it?” Emmie asked. When he didn’t answer she continued, “You’re gonna need help now that Ronnie’s gone. You can’t do all this by yourself. The way I see it you need help and I need money. Done deal.”

  “Emmie, I’ve known ya for a lot of years. You should know better than to walk up on a man’s still. If it weren’t me, you might be leaving with a hole that God didn’t give ya,” Walter started.

  Emmie cut him off, “Walter, this is my land. This is my cave. That is my water you are pumping through that barrel. Part of that ’shine is mine the way I see it.” She kept her shoulders square and looked him right in the eye and hoped he didn’t see the way her hands trembled when she balled them up into a fist at her side.

  “What do you know about ’shine?” Walter adjusted his pipe in his mouth.

  Well, he had her there. She only knew three things about moonshine:

  1. It was illegal.

  2. It made Ronnie as mean as a snake.

  3. It made fast money.

  And none of those things she could say out loud. Well, maybe she could tell him the last one.

  “I need the money, Walter,” she mumbled relaxing her shoulders a bit.

  “Emmie, you don’t want this money. It’s not clean. Ain’t you working down at the shop sewing stuff?” he asked, pulling a long draw from his pipe.

  “I can’t make a living on that. I’ve been trying. I just need to build up a little money, then it’s all yours again. I swear it,” she said.

  “You hungry, girl? Cause you know you are welcome at our table any time. I thought Mae done told you that?” He stood and started working on some copper pipe that was losing steam, only half paying attention to her. He didn’t have time to be messing around out here with some half-grown kid.

  “Besides, I hear Mr. Thomas has been trying to catch your eye. Why don’t you just let him? You could do worse than a storekeeper,” he added, never looking at her.

  Great. As if this conversation wasn’t bad enough now she had to talk about Mr. Thomas.

  “No, Mae invited me for supper anytime I wanted. I appreciate it, really. I make enough money to eat. And I don’t want to depend on Mr. Thomas anymore than I already do. He pays me for sewing and that’s all I need,” Emmie answered.

  “You’re talking out of both sides of your mouth girl.” Irritated he started putting some goop on the pipe to no avail. It just kept running right down the side of the curved copper. “Ya say you got all the money you need from Thomas and ya got food. What do you wanna work out here with me and Ole Maizy for?”

  “Maizy?” Emmie looked around. Was there another woman here?

  “My still, Ole Maizy,” he said with an odd sense of affection, like it was a pet.

  Emmie blinked slowly and nodded. Had the old man gone off his rocker? Her face must have asked the question she held inside her mouth.

  “Maizy’s been in my family for years.” He patted more paste on the copper pipe. She noticed how careful he touched it. “My paw told me they named her Maizy cause that was what them Indians called corn and bein’ as we use corn to make the ’shine…” he shrugged then smiled thinking back on some memory leaving his sentence unfinished. He glanced back to Emmie.

  “But that don’t matter,” he regained his gruff composure, “cause this is gonna be the first and last time ya see this here still. Now, tell me what’s going on. You are a good girl. Why’re you trying to get yourself all caught up in my business?” He hooked his thumbs under his overalls and waited for her to speak.

  “Alright, here’s the truth of it. I could use a little money to help make the difference in the mortgage. But mainly, I want to go to college. I want to be a teacher. I need to save up some money to pay for school. Please, I can help you…” She looked around praying to God she’d see something she knew how to do. But he was right she knew nothing about making moonshine.

  Spotty stood and stretched his legs with a little groan. When she turned to face him she spied something out of place. Propped up on a large rock was half a sack of flour. She could tell it had been used because there was a little trail of white powder spilling out of the mouth. Why in the world would Walt have a sack of flour out here?

  Walter was paying her no mind. He’d turned his attention back to Ole Maisy. He was worrying with the watery paste to no avail. The spot where the two copper pipes had been fused together was still emitting unwanted steam from the joint. His hands were shaking; he wasn’t as young as he used to be. And this was hard work. Walter didn’t drink this stuff like Ronnie, or much of it anyway. She believed him. He did this for tradition. No doubt his family had been making moonshine for years before the 18th Amendment made it illegal to do so. Truth be told, the little extra money he was getting from it probably didn’t hurt his family either. He wasn’t wealthy by any stretch. Emmie watched him as his brow wrinkled with frustration. Walter wiped the paste on his overalls and stepped back to see what was wrong.

  “Here let me see your mix, Walt,” she said. Emmie was surprised when he handed her the small bowl of paste. “This is too thin. Did you make this from that flour over there?”

  “Who are you to be telling me what to do, girl? I’ve been doing this since before you were knee-high,” he snapped but his eyes didn’t hold any ill feeling toward her.

  “Well, you’re right. I don’t know about moonshine. But I do know about baking and making a good batter. That paste is too thin. See, it’s just dripping right down the sides. You’re losing steam which probably means you’re losing ’shine,” she said, adding more flour to the bowl and giving it a good stir. “Try that.”

  He gave her an annoyed look then walked over to Ole Maizy muttering something under his breath. He carefully scooped some paste onto the joint, careful to slather it in each of the nooks and crannies. Sure enough most of the steam quit coming out of the sides of the pipe. Emmie grinned like the cat that swallowed the canary.

  “My eyes ain’t as good as they used to be. Can’t see how thick it’s getting anymore,” he said, taking in her expression. Then he pointed a finger at her. “Just because you make a good paste don’t mean you’re my partner. I tell you what though, you’re right. It’s your land and so I’ll make a deal. You mix me up some paste, I’ll pay you one dollar each week.”

  “Walter, I’m not a child. I need more than that. I explained to you that I need the money. I can do more than make paste,” she begged.

  “Emmie get back to your house before I change my mind. I’m not playing at thi
s game any more. I’ll bring you your money soon as I can. That’s four dollars a month. It’s the best I can give ya right now.” For the first time tonight he used a stern voice, he was serious now. He’d always been like a grandpa to her. She couldn’t disrespect him now. He’d given her more of a chance than anyone else would have. Heck, some folks would have shot her for getting so close to their still. Folks around here didn’t mess around when it came to their ’shine.

  “Alright. Thanks Walter. You just let me know when you need me to mix more of that up for you,” Emmie said and then turned and headed back toward the mouth of the cave. She patted her leg and Spotty trotted along after her.

  “Um hmm,” he answered as she was leaving. “Be careful on the way back to the house.”

  When she got back to her house it was nearly two in the morning but she couldn’t sleep. It was good to finally figure out what Ronnie had been up to. Finally it made sense why Walter had been the one to find him that night. Emmie appreciated that Walter was at least willing to give her a few dollars a month. That would pretty much take care of the rest of the mortgage but there’d be no money left for school. Walter would come around, she just had to find a way to make him see he needed her help.

  Chapter Five

  Needle in, needle out, change color. Repeat.

  That’s what her job felt like today. Monotonous. When Emmie used to help her mother with sewing and smocking, she loved it. It was creative, relaxing, peaceful quiet. Mama always hummed as she sewed. Church hymns, lullabies, classics, it didn’t matter. She said it was impossible to be anything but happy when you’re humming. It spoke louder than words.

  Emmie started idly humming Ole Dan Tucker thinking back to her conversation with Walter a couple days ago. She had seen neither hide nor hair out of him since their midnight chat. She knew him well enough to know he wasn’t going to skip out on the money he’d promised but Emmie wondered when he’d come for the paste. She’d worked every night practicing different ratios of flour and water trying to get a good thickness for the gooey concoction.