Page 53 of Shadowed Loyalty

Thirteen

What hinders? Are you beam-blind, yet to a fault

In a neighbour deft-handed? Are you that liar

And, cast by conscience out, spendsavour salt?

—Gerard Manley Hopkins,

from “The Candle Indoors”

The morning was bright, warm, and leaning toward afternoon by the time Sally stepped out into it. As she turned the key in the lock, she went through her mental checklist one more time. New sheets on the bed, old ones soaking in the tub. Yesterday’s clothes scrubbed, dried, pressed. Table, wiped down. Dishes, washed and dried and put away. Floor swept. Rubbish bins emptied.

She took a step away, but then stopped. Her chest itched, and rubbing a hand over it wouldn’t help anything. Ignoring it would just mean that the thoughts would plague her through her whole outing. Dirty. Filthy. Rotten.

She spun back to the door, let herself in, and charged for the sink. She wiped it down one more time, then the table. She washed her hands until they were pink from hot water and Ivory soap.

The voice still tried to echo, but she twisted the tap back off and snatched up the clean towel. “Take that, Dad.”

Speed was the answer now. Get outside, away from it all, before she could think about it again. A minute later she was back on the crumbling sidewalk and, shielding her eyes from the sun, she surveyed the sky. Not a cloud marred the blue expanse. Good. She didn’t want to be caught out in the rain in one of her two good dresses.

She set off down the street, humming a little ditty that had been played in the dance hall the night before to drown out the last echoes of her father’s voice. Her nerves jumped to the ragtime beat, but she told herself the excess energy was excitement.

Maybe things would finally turn around. She hadn’t suspected it when those Italian fellas dropped Roman at her feet, but he might just be her ticket out of this hell.

Daddy Dearest roared in her head again, and this time she could see his mottled face too as he thundered after her, out onto the pristine white porch of their pristine white house. “You leave here,” he’d bellowed after her, “and you’ll go straight to hell!”

She paused at an empty intersection, dragged in a breath, blinked until she saw the familiar buildings of the Levee instead of the multicolored patchwork of autumn in the Appalachians. She rubbed that never-ending itch in her chest. Turned out Dad was right. Hell reigned freely in Chicago’s Levee, and she was pretty sure the devil himself answered to the name Al Capone.

She crossed the street and hurried onward, then around the corner at the next intersection. A few cars motored by, but otherwise there wasn’t much action in the Levee this time of day. That made it easier to pretend, on those days when she cared to, that she was back in Cumberland, strolling through downtown, ready to duck into McMurphy’s for a soda at the fountain before she did the week’s shopping.

Today the pretense brought her way too close to the memories of Dad. Besides, it was time to stop looking back and think about the future. If she played it right, this particular hell might not be quite as eternal as she’d begun to fear.

A car motored through the intersection where she needed to cross, so she paused and toyed with the neckline of her dress. She had grown unaccustomed to the modest cut, and whenever she put it on, it felt almost suffocating. But it wouldn’t do to go to a fashionable boutique looking like what she was—not if she actually wanted help in spending the bills tucked safely in the little beaded bag Grandma had given her for her last birthday at home. Roman had handed over the dough reluctantly, so she figured she’d better spend it wisely.

Her lips, which she’d carefully painted a stylish scarlet, curved up into a smile as she gained the street where Ava’s Place made its home. She’d never been gladder that she’d kept up her acquaintance with the older moll. If she hadn’t made a habit of stopping by once a month or so, it would look mighty strange to do so now. As it was, when she let herself in and Tom poked his long face out of his office, he greeted her with a smile.

“Sally. I figured you were due for a visit soon. Ava and the girls are all upstairs. Go on up.”

“Thanks, Tom.” She sashayed down the hall, stopping at his office so she could lean in and smack a kiss onto his lips. Never hurt to keep on the good side of men like him, even if they weren’t the ones with real power. “How’s the missus treating you?”

“No complaints,” he said with a grin.

Sally stepped back into the hall and winked. “Too bad. Don’t work too hard, now. It’s a beautiful day out there.”

He made a noncommittal hum as she turned to the stairs. She knew her way around here well enough to head up and search out Ava. She found her, as she expected, in her cozy sitting room with a needle, beads, and silk dress in hand.

Sally waltzed in, no need to pause and prepare herself for the coming encounter. Roman had said something about learning her role, acting the part. But this wasn’t acting. Acting was the smiles she’d had to don every day at home when people talked about what a wonderful man her father was. So good. So generous. Such a pillar of the community. Acting was saying, “Yes, Daddy,” every time he finally decided she was bloody enough and asked if she’d learned her lesson. Acting was telling him every night that she loved him, no matter what new bruises or broken bones he’d given her that day—to make her holy, he said. To whip the sin out of her.

No, this wasn’t acting. This was just being exactly what he’d made her: a girl who did whatever she had to do to survive.

Ava looked up as she entered, a smile blooming on the older woman’s elegant face. “Sally,” she said with obvious pleasure. “I was hoping you’d be by soon. And aren’t you looking lovely today.”

Sally leaned over to kiss Ava’s cheek as she usually did, giving her a grin. “I’m going shopping and was hoping I could convince you to come. I’m gonna need some advice.”

Putting aside the dress, Ava lifted her brows. “A shopping trip sounds fun. What’s the occasion?”

Sally laughed and sat beside her. “You’re going to get a kick out of this one. So I met this john, right? Good-looking guy, and he really knows what he’s doing, if you get my drift. But his mind’s obviously on other things—asks me if I know any of Manny’s girls.”

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