The Stills
Page 35
LILY, DECEMBER 24, 1927, 8:55 P.M.
Lily smiles as the next child lights the third Advent candle, Joy, for that makes her think, despite all their sorrow, of the Harkins family.
Zebediah had returned home. Lily has checked on the Harkinses a few times, and she’s pleased that Leroy has agreed that Zebediah can have insulin. Zebediah is cold to her, though, when she visits. Lily understands—he needs someone to blame for not being home before his mother passed, and even if it doesn’t make sense, he’s blaming Lily. He’s a child, and he will grow out of it, eventually.
But Ruth is always glad to see her. Two days ago, when Lily visited, she pulled Ruth aside, asked her to come out to the front porch.
Brought you a little something, for Christmas, Lily had said. She pulled from her tote bag a glass jar of seeds, a red ribbon tied around its neck. Store it somewhere dark and dry—in a cabinet.
Then she pointed to Dora’s container on the front porch, still filled with withered zinnias. Took some seeds, that first time I visited. Can you hang on to them till spring? Start them in little peat pots, with good rich soil and water, and when they sprout, plant them wherever you like.
Ruth had stared at the jar like it held everything she needed in the world. With damp eyes, she’d finally looked up at Lily.
Sheriff Lily, maybe you could, could come help me?
Of course.
Maybe we can plant some by Mama’s grave? Get Zeb and Daddy and the others to help?
Lily had nodded. If they want to.
Ruth had smiled. They won’t always be sad, or mad, you know. Zeb already gave me a gift, too! A book—The Blue Castle. Then Ruth had leaned forward, whispered, Talked Daddy into getting him a better hunting rifle. A Winchester!
The fourth candle: Peace.
Peace.
Perhaps peace is the hardest of the four tenets of Advent.
Neither Luther nor Elias could hurt Lily or anyone she knows for now. George and Abe will be in prison for a good long time.
Sometimes, at night, Lily wakes up in a cold sweat, the horror of Elias stopping George’s automobile by detonating the dynamite—and blowing himself apart by doing so—repeating in her nightmares. Sometimes, she sees it again during the day. Elias had wanted peace, his last words the request for her: Forgive me.
That horrific ending, even if it led to the capture of George Vogel and the shutdown of his operation, an event that made the newspapers across the land, was not anything she would have wanted or imagined for Elias, though it made for scintillating copy. Lily had turned down requests for interviews, including with Thrilling Gumshoe, though they’d written up the story anyway, drawing from news reports. Lily just shook her head and said nothing whenever anyone brought it up to her—whether teasing or with admiration.
She didn’t have anything to add to the story, as Mabel Walker Willebrandt—who gave quite the Prohibition speech in a packed Kinship Opera House a few days after the takedown of George—offered up plenty of interviews fully crediting the Bureau of Prohibition, with Special Agents Sloan and DeHaven filling in all the colorful details.
Those details revealed that Elias had murdered Henry Murphy and, along with Luther, worked with George Vogel on plans to bring a bootlegging operation directly to the heart of Bronwyn County. So Mama and Lily had been the only attendees at Elias’s funeral. Mama, who’d wept upon reading the stories of Elias’s betrayals, insisted they go. It will bring peace, Mama claimed.
And, at least to some degree, Mama had been right.
Their pastor, who led Elias’s funeral service, had scant words to say beyond the formalities, but in the gray, swirling snow this had struck Lily: Sometimes the best we can do for loved ones who hurt us deeply is leave them on the altar. Lily understood: leave their souls to God’s judgment, and go back to tending to life. And to the loved ones who remain.
Now Jolene takes up the light from the last child and tips the flame to the candle in the middle of the wreath, the Christ candle, symbolizing light spreading to one and all.
Then as she carries the light to the person on the far end of the first pew, Frankie begins singing a cappella in her clear, pure voice, “O holy night, the stars are brightly shining.…”
The first woman lights her candle from Jolene’s. The next person lights her candle. By the time Frankie sings, “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,” the church is filled with light.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
For the first two novels in my Kinship Historical Mystery Series, Prohibition plays a significant role, but mainly in the background.
For this novel, I decided it was time to bring Prohibition to the foreground, and really explore how the national law might impact one specific, rural area.
It turns out that 1927 is a fascinating year in which to make Prohibition almost a character in its own right in a novel.
For one thing, it is absolutely true that as Prohibition wore on, sixty million gallons (give or take a gallon here or there) of industrial alcohol were stolen each year to supply the “wets” of the land. By 1926, the government required industrial alcohol be denatured with bitter chemicals, but syndicates hired chemists to “renature” it. So, in turn, the government required industrial alcohol to be made more deadly—with methyl alcohol the most deadly. Reports began to emerge in 1927 of imbibers becoming very ill or dying from consumption of drinks made with industrial alcohol. “Blind drunk” wasn’t just a cute turn of phrase.
While New Jersey Senator Edward I. Edwards called the federal government’s actions “legalized murder,” the Anti-Saloon League’s Wayne B. Wheeler said anyone who drank industrial alcohol was engaging in “suicide,” and that “to root out a bad habit [drinking alcohol of any kind] costs many lives and long years of effort.”
Indeed, Prohibition was a complex issue. Many scholars and documenters, including Ken Burns in his documentary The Roots of Prohibition (a fascinating series that I highly recommend), refers to Prohibition as the United States’ first “wedge” issue, with politicians and lobbyists on either side (“dry” and “wet”) working to use it to divide Americans on other issues—from women’s suffrage to equal rights for Black Americans.
A fourteen-foot-tall bronze sculpture called The American Issue in Westerville, Ohio—headquarters of the Anti-Saloon League, one of the organizations that pushed mightily for Prohibition, and now home of the Anti-Saloon League Museum—recognizes Prohibition as the United States’ original wedge issue. It depicts a wedge, pushed down by a barrel, splitting a large rock in half, just as the country was divided by the debate over alcohol, by the Constitution’s Eighteenth Amendment, which made Prohibition national law (previously, the wet versus dry decision was made by local municipalities and states); the Volstead Act, which enforced it—sort of, with plenty of loopholes for the wealthy and powerful; and the Twenty-first Amendment, which finally ended the failed experiment.
I’ve tried to accurately capture the nuances and loopholes and arguments both pro and con regarding Prohibition as part of the fabric of this novel.
Mabel Walker Willebrandt truly was Assistant Attorney General from 1921–1929. I could only include her for a few pages, and of course her dialogue with Lily is entirely from my imagination, but how could I not have these two meet? I’m hoping someone out there is writing a nonfiction book about Willebrandt, or working on a documentary about her!
The iron production industry in Ohio helped the state to grow and develop, but it was relatively short-lived, from the 1840s or so to the late 1890s or so. Smelting furnaces, which processed iron ore extracted from sandstone, flourished in southeastern Ohio, with much of the resulting iron used to support the Union Army during the Civil War. Many of the industry’s furnace owners were abolitionists. By 1900, almost all of the furnaces were shut down in the southern part of Ohio, and iron production moved on to other parts of the country. Now, only a few of the old furnaces exist as relics of an industry in southern Ohio that’s nearly forgotten. (I wasn’t
aware of it until I started writing this series.)
Finally, I wanted to explore health issues from the perspective of nearly one hundred years ago. In an era when many aspects of medicine that we now take more or less for granted had yet to be developed, how would people deal with health issues that were relatively common then, as they are now, such as diabetes or asthma? Or, tragically, cancer—for which scientists are still researching treatments? What’s more, how would people of limited means or knowledge handle such health issues?
One way is through faith—and I offer that statement with no intention of disrespect. I do believe faith helps people in myriad ways. Of course, exploring extremes—such as snake handling—as a way of showing faith always makes for dramatic scenes. But, in this novel, it also gave me a chance to show how Lily is struggling with her own faith, not just religious, but in those around her and in her community.
However, just for the record, I did all of my research on snake handling by reading and by watching YouTube recordings of modern-day snake handling at several churches. (It is a very rare practice.) That was more than enough for me!
One last note: Asthma cigarettes. Yes, these were real, and were a common treatment for asthma in the 1920s, and Page’s Inhalers were considered a fine, top-notch brand. Some things just can’t be made up.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
While writing the first dreadful draft of any novel takes place alone (thankfully), the other stages require a community that rallies around the writer (also thankfully).
In the research stage, I’m indebted to Teri Kistler, who spent a good part of a day off from her work at the Westerville Public Library going into work on my behalf. The Anti-Saloon League Museum is housed at the Westerville Public Library in Westerville, Ohio, and Teri graciously arranged for me to talk with the museum staff and spend much longer than I’d scheduled studying the museum’s displays and materials, which preserve the history of Prohibition, particularly that of the Anti-Saloon League and of the “dry” movement in Ohio. (I’m also grateful that no one looked too alarmed when I yelped in glee at the display of a Vino Sano Grape Brick, the existence of which I’d learned about in earlier research.)
Thank you to Karla Hollencamp who, when we met at a book club visit, told me about the “Bootleggers, Bandits and Badges” exhibit at Carillon Historical Park (daytonhistory.org) in Dayton, Ohio; visiting the fascinating exhibit provided surprises and insights for my research for this novel.
Nonfiction authors also provided valuable and necessary context for my fictional imaginings. Though George Vogel is only inspired by real-life George Remus, I’m also grateful to two authors who have written fascinating books about Remus: The Bourbon King by Bob Batchelor and The Ghosts of Eden Park, by Karen Abbott. Last Call: The Rise and Fall of Prohibition by Daniel Okrent, proved to be (and will continue to be) both a valuable resource and fascinating deep dive into the Prohibition era.
Finally, I’m always grateful for my family’s patience when I drag them along on my research adventures. This time around, it was to Hope Iron Furnace, near New Plymouth, Ohio, in Vinton County. Thank you, David and Gwen. I’d be lost—metaphorically and literally—without you, still wandering the hills of southeast Ohio.
On to that dreadful first draft … ah, perhaps it wasn’t written entirely without community support. Because we had our wooden floors resanded as well as a bathroom gutted and renovated as I wrote, I had to find writing spaces outside my home office. I’m indebted to Reza’s Roast (www.rezasroast.com), for delicious caffeinated beverages for brain fuel as well as for a gorgeous writing space, as well as to Washington-Centerville Public Library, for public work spaces.
For the later stages of revising, editing, and proofing, I’m ever grateful to my agent, Elisabeth, and my editor, Catherine. Every book has production milestones to meet, and I’d be lost (yet again!) without Nettie keeping me on track. And of course, Sarah and Joe always make sure my books reach a wide audience—thank you!
In every stage, I’m grateful to my writing buddies. Even in the pandemic era, we manage to find socially distanced, safe ways to get together and cheer each other on.
I’m especially thankful for our daughters, Katherine and Gwen, and for my husband, David, who never show any doubts about my wild creative journey—made sweeter by sharing it with you.
ALSO BY JESS MONTGOMERY
THE WIDOWS
THE HOLLOWS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JESS MONTGOMERY is the “Literary Life” columnist for the Dayton Daily News and Executive Director of the renowned Antioch Writers’ Workshop in Yellow Springs, Ohio. Based on early chapters of the first in the Kinship Series, The Widows, Jess was awarded an Ohio Arts Council individual artist’s grant for literary arts and the John E. Nance Writer-in-Residence at Thurber House in Columbus. She lives in her native state of Ohio. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Map
Prologue
Chapter 1: Lily
Chapter 2: Fiona
Chapter 3: Lily
Chapter 4: Fiona
Chapter 5: Lily
Chapter 6: Fiona
Chapter 7: Lily
Chapter 8: Fiona
Chapter 9: Lily
Chapter 10: Fiona
Chapter 11: Lily
Chapter 12: Fiona
Chapter 13: Lily
Chapter 14: Fiona
Chapter 15: Lily
Chapter 16: Fiona
Chapter 17: Lily
Chapter 18: Fiona
Chapter 19: Lily
Chapter 20: Fiona
Chapter 21: Lily
Chapter 22: Fiona
Chapter 23: Lily
Chapter 24: Fiona
Chapter 25: Lily
Chapter 26: Fiona
Chapter 27: Lily
Chapter 28: Fiona
Chapter 29: Lily
Chapter 30: Fiona
Chapter 31: Lily
Chapter 32: Lily & Fiona
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
Also by Jess Montgomery
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by Minotaur Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
THE STILLS. Copyright © 2021 by Sharon Short. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein
Cover photographs: woman © Rekha Garton/Arcangel; mountain range © Jack-Sooksan/Shutterstock.com; fog© Cinestock/Shutterstock.com
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-62340-9 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-62341-6 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250623416
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First Edition: 2021
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