Mothers and Fathers
"Mr. Pepper? This is Wick Sable. Yes, it's been a while. Say, tomorrow in the papers you're probably going to read that St. Louis had a bad tornado tear through town- Yes, she's alright. Ivy, Mitzi, and some of the others are here with me at the estate. We just got the telephone lines working again so I wanted to give you a call- Yes, she's here with me."
Wick held the receiver out. "You better tell your father that you're okay. And probably leave out some of your escapades tonight." He suggested as Ivy picked the phone out of his hand. "Hi Dad! Yes dad, I'm alright. It's a cave, dad, a tornado couldn't hurt us anyway. No, Miss M would never put us in harm's way, all I was doing down there was waiting to dance- Okay, yes dad. Yes. I'll call later this week when I can. I'm sure Wick will let me stay until the dorms have been repaired. Oh, Alena said it was just a couple of broken windows. Nothing serious. Uh huh…"
With one child taken care of, Wick turned his attention to the other sitting in the living room. "So, Calvin, with the phones working I assume you'd want to call your mother."
"I-I probably should. But I haven't spoken to her now in months."
"Oh yeah, that's right. Terribly sorry you had to get involved in that whole affair in my quarry."
"No, don't be. I don't regret that at all. I just wish she would reply. I've sent letters. Does she hate me?"
"I can't imagine a mother truly hating her own child. You know, I've had my own disputes with my parents. Father wanted me in business school, but I insisted on geology. But things have a way of working out. He eventually had to admit my natural talents in mining, the result is what you see around us."
"I don't know if my problem is quite the same as yours, Mr. Sable."
"Probably not, but the point still stands. Your mother loves you, I'm sure of that at least. But maybe you aren't ready to see her yet? If that's the case, then all I can say is to go find her when the time feels right."
"Thanks, I'll consider it."
"My pleasure, lad. Now, I also hear you're looking for work?"
"I did quit with the bootlegging. I only ever did that because Rocky and Ivy needed me, but Ethan said it's okay to pursue other things."
"What things would that be?"
"Well, the police academy probably won't accept me back. I guess I'm good with hand tools, but so is everyone else."
"Sounds like you've got a lot to think about. If you decide you want to start working in the quarrying business, I'm sure I can find a spot for you."
"Trying to recruit from my own ranks, tsk tsk, Mr. Sable." Mitzi said as she sat down next to the "baron of industry".
"If I recall correctly, Freckle isn't your employee anymore, madam." Wick said with a smile on his face. "But every young man needs a job. Something he can do and be proud of."
"Indeed. That's why I have a plan of my own for you, Freckle. I need to get Ethan on board first, but you might be perfect for the role."
"Miss M, I don't want to be running liquor anymore. Don't get me wrong, it was a great job, but—"
"It won't be anything nearly as dangerous as that. Now that the speakeasy is getting enough people in, the Arbogasts by themselves can't supply enough booze. Rather than find a new supplier, I thought it might be safer and easier to create a new supply instead."
"What do you mean, Miss M?" Wick asked, intrigued.
"It's been a long day so let's wait on this until another time. I just wanted to say something before you go off and get a job, Freckle. Now if you boys excuse me, I had better check on the band."
"Yes, please make sure they aren't using the guest house as their own personal opium den."
"They had better not be, my things are in there as well. If Zib or any of the others even think about it, I'll personally escort them to the curb."
"Splendid. Good night, Miss M."
In Her Arms
Fresh from a much-needed shower, I was still wrapped in a towel when I tucked Riley in for the night. "Quite the day, huh sis?"
"Yeah, it was scary."
"You didn't see anything you wanted to talk about, right?"
"Besides the dead body Ivy found? Or the destroyed neighborhood?"
"Oh… I suppose we weren't exactly subtle about hiding that." I said, sitting down next to her, my tail laying over the top of hers. "You'll be okay tonight, right? I can come sleep in the room if it makes you feel safe."
"Hey, I'm not a little kitten anymore Ethan!" Riley said.
"I know, you're growing up. It's amazing to see the difference even a few months makes. I just wanted to make sure because Isabella and I are going to have some personal time. But only if you're going to be okay sleeping here in your own bedroom."
Riley sat up and hugged me, burying her face in my chest. "I'll be fine, brother."
"That's all I need to hear." I said, resting my head on top of hers. Even as recently as a year ago she would have crawled into my lap and let me rock her to sleep. But those were worse times. We had lost everyone, and even mom wasn't much help at the end. The grief wrecked her. Now that we were in a better position she could finally grow up into a young woman. Strong and brave, just like her brothers. But she'd be my little sister forever and if there was one aspect of life I loved like no other, it was being her brother.
"Good night, kiddo. I think it's safe to say we can all sleep in as late as we want. Even Wick is taking the day off tomorrow. If you need me, make sure to knock first."
Turning off the lights and closing the door, I turned around and was immediately confronted by Isabella. "You know, you're going to make a good dad someday."
"Is that a request for me to start shopping for a ring?"
"Let's get you to meet my parents first, soldier boy."
"Agreed. For tonight, you have any short-term plans in mind?"
She led me by the hand as I closed the door across the hall from Riley's room. "Ten bedrooms. This must cost Wick a fortune to keep up!" She said as we both laid back with a bottle of old wine swiped from the cellar.
"Yeah, don't tell me you want a mansion. A ring might be challenging enough for a farmer."
"Ha! If I wanted some rich boy, there's plenty of them at the University. No, Ethan, a man who does the things you do is all a woman could ask for."
"What? Killing people? Fighting, running liquor. Committing a whole assortment of crimes?" I said, making certain she understood that I was far from a perfect person.
"Not that stuff, Ethan. You know what I mean. How you treat Riley, how you treat Freckle and Rocky. Ivy adores you too."
"What can I say, they're my family!"
"About the only thing that scares me is what I saw when I first showed up today. What was all that about?"
"Oh. Yeah, I suppose I should tell you about that. You know I was in the war. Well, it's like a part of me is still in France."
"What do you mean?"
"Jesus, it's a good thing we got some good wine. You want me to tell you the whole story?"
"We've got all night, Ethan. Come, let's lie down.
Laying back, I put my head on her arm as we both laid up, looking at the ceiling. "You sure you want to know?"
"Yes. You said no secrets when we first started dating. I've only got one or two left to spill, but it's hard when there's so much you haven't said."
"Okay. Well, for starters I was only in the war for the last few months. My draft number came up right after I turned 18. A couple months later I was in France, filling the ranks before the last push through Belgium and into Germany."
"You told me that part. Oh, you were just a kid." Isabella exclaimed, holding me tight.
"Yes, I was. Well, they put me in the 77th Infantry. Liberty Division as it was known. A few days into the last push, I was part of a battalion-sized force of soldiers who got stuck behind enemy lines. Most of us were killed in the first day, including Derrick and some of the others I had come to see as friends. I… did things. Awful things just to survive. It was like something inside me snapped."
"You were in a war, Ethan. Everyone has to do terrible things."
"Not like this. Any soldier can shoot another man. I learned how to hunt them. Over the course of a week I killed dozens, maybe even a couple hundred. When I ran out of bullets, I used the bayonet and knife. When those too were lost, I used my bare hands. I stashed enemy weapons like a squirrel preparing for winter. When the dust settled and we finally made it out, I was one of the few to walk away without any serious injury."
"Oh, Ethan. No wonder you didn't want to say anything."
I couldn't stop myself now, it all just flowed out. "That isn't all. The Germans gave me a name after they found some of their friends dead. Throats slit or stabbed to death in their sleep. Geist von Charlevaux is what they called me. It seems the name stuck because even now, the gangsters of St. Louis call me the 'ghost'. That night in the quarry, I killed over twenty men. I had to get to Riley, Rocky, and the others."
"So, when you said you were a killer…"
"I really am a killer. I'm not a gangster, Bella. I'm far worse. The worst part of all is that when I was in France, I met a man who practiced voodoo. In our most desperate hour, he summoned Ogun. I thought it was all just a bunch of superstitious nonsense, but ever since I picked up a rifle again, I've been seeing his symbol in my head."
"Ogun? What's Ogun?"
"He's the voodoo God of war. I can't get it out of my head, Bella. But you know what? Today, when I was in the middle of one of my episodes, you came to me. It was like an angel reaching down to save me. My savior."
"Then maybe that's a sign we're meant to be together." Bella said as she stroked my hair, finishing off the glass of wine and setting it on the nightstand.
"None of that scares you? Me being a monster doesn't scare you?"
"Ethan, you're the furthest thing from a monster. And that whole "Ogun" thing is probably in your head. Sounds to me like a guilty conscious trying to find something to blame. At least that's how my psychology professor would put it."
"Well, I did do a lot of terrible things."
"Sure, but why did you do them? Was it for money? Fame? Glory? It was for family, right? When you were in the war, how often did you think of home?"
"Almost every waking minute and most of my dreams."
"And when you attacked the men in that quarry, they held your little sister hostage. Your family."
"I still killed them, though."
"Sure, but it wasn't because you're a monster. It's because you love your family and would do anything to protect them. How could I possibly hold that against you."
"You know, I think I love you even more after hearing that."
"And I love you, Ethan Kelly. Now, shall we prove it, or are you too exhausted?
"For you, my love. I'll try."
Rocky's Heart
The clock stuck midnight as he waited with Joseph for news on his mother. The kid had been in and out of sleep now for nearly two hours. Rocky himself was quite tired. He rarely slept a full night anyway, but this was a longer day than usual. In fact, nothing was usual today. Just as he was about to nod off, a nurse shook his shoulder. "Sir?"
"Hmm. Yes?" Rocky replied, rubbing his eyes.
"I came to tell you that Margaret Calhoun is out of surgery. You and the boy are welcome to see her if you'd like to."
"Oh! Of course." Rocky picked up the sleeping boy and put him on his shoulder. Escorted back to a private room, Margaret looked up from her bed. One leg in a cast, the other now a mere stump. Cuts and bruises covered her body, but she was alive. "Rocky!" She said with a smile. "How is my son?"
"Sleeping. He's fine though. A nurse said he had no injuries."
"Oh, thank God! And thank you, as well as your friends. The doctors say I'll be healed in a few weeks."
"Did you have anyone in St. Louis who can take care of you?" Rocky asked.
"Like I said in that collapsed building, it's just me and my son. We have no one else in America and I'm not about to send him back to his aunt in Scotland."
"I would have to talk to Ethan, but I think we can find a place for you and Joe at the farm. Tomorrow I can make a couple of phone calls and get an answer."
"You would take us in?"
"That's what we do, Miss Calhoun."
"I don't want to wake him up, but can I see him?"
"Of course!" Rocky said as he leaned down for her to get a better look at her boy.
"My little man. I'm so glad he's alright. I'll see you in the morning, but until then I'm relieved that you're in good hands." She then kissed him on the forehead before laying back. "I hope they have a bed around here."
"Well, they do have some great chairs." He said while sliding down into a padded chair in the corner. "We'll be right here waiting."
Within minutes Margaret was fast asleep. Rocky pulled his jacked off and wrapped the boy up in it before cradling him in his lap. This was going to be a long night, but he's had worse. He laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
"Mom?" Young Rocky asked as he stood next to the hospital bed. His mother looked back at him and smiled. "My sweet Rocky."
"When are you coming home?"
"I… I won't be able to come home with you, Rocky. But your aunt Nina will take care of you."
"But why can't you come back with us?"
"Because Rocky," Sophie sighed. "Here, climb on up."
Rocky did as he was told, settling into the hospital bed in the crook of his mother's arm. "Why are you sweating so much?"
"Because I'm dying Rocky."
"No! You can't be. We just have each other!"
"I'll always love you, my little boy. But these things can't be helped."
Rocky nested himself even closer to his mother as Sophie stroked his ears. His eyes were wide with terror. He was about to face the world alone. All of it was a shock to his little mind.
"You remember that promise you made a few months ago?" Sophie asked her boy.
"Yeah! Find friends and make a family!" He said.
"Good. I want you to make one more. I want nothing but happiness for you, Rocky. But you are going to face a lot of challenges in life, and I won't be there to help you. So, promise me, Rocky, that no matter what you don't let the world break you. Be the brave, caring man I know you can grow to be."
"I will, mom." he said, resting his head on his mother's shoulder while she coughed weakly.
Rocky awoke to nurses and doctors crowding the room. He glanced at the clock; only six hours had passed. One nurse turned his attention to Rocky and the boy in his arms. "We need the room; this is an emergency."
"What's happening?!" Rocky asked with alarm. Now Joseph was starting to wake up from all the commotion.
"We don't know yet, but we need to get her back into the emergency room immediately. Now please, we need the space to work. The kid probably shouldn't see this either."
"Right, we're leaving!" Rocky said as he hurried out of the room. Looking back, Margaret was flat on a gurney being rushed down the hall with an entire crowd of medical staff in pursuit.
The phone rang throughout the house. The only one up at such an hour was Wick. Despite saying he'd take the day off, years of getting up at dawn prevented him from getting a good night's sleep when he wanted to. Picking up the phone on his desk, the voice on the other end was frantic.
"Hello? Rocky?! Rocky, what's wrong? Okay, I'll tell him. North hospital, understood."
Hard knocking at the door woke me up. "Ethan! It's Rocky. He needs you at the hospital. Says it's urgent."
"What's going on?" I asked while jumping out of bed, trying to find my drawers in the clothes scattered about.
"He didn't elaborate, but he's at the hospital in North St. Louis." Wick said through the door. "I'll get Calvin and Ivy."
Dressing fast, I quickly buttoned up my shirt even though it was still covered in… let's say mud.
"Rocky's in the hospital?!" Isabella asked, getting out of bed and searching for her own clothes, not bothering to cover herself as she stood up.
"He spent the night there watching a kid he found trapped in a building. The boy's mother had to have her leg amputated."
"So, is it Rocky or the mother that has the emergency?"
"I hope it's neither, but honestly it's a coin toss."
"I'll be back soon. Just try and rest, okay?" I said, kissing her while I finished getting my clothes on.
Downstairs I met Freckle and Ivy. I could tell by the state of their own hair that perhaps they had a bit more than sleep as well. "Wick says it's Rocky." Freckle said as he put his cap on.
"I know. He's at the hospital in North town."
"I'll watch the ladies while you're out." Wick said as he poured coffee for himself.
"Thanks Wick, we'll be back soon."
Traffic was light, probably on account of the tornado. Even so, I dared not speed through the sections of town patrolled by police. All we needed was for a cop to find the Thompson in the violin case and a few other pieces of hardware. We made it across town in record time, skirting around the tornado's path. Rushing through the front door, we ran up to the desk. "Excuse me, ma'am?"
"Yes, how can I help you?" The receptionist greeted us as she set down her coffee mug.
"We have a friend here. Rocky Rickaby."
"I don't have him on any of my patient lists." She said, scanning the clipboard on her desk.
"He's not a patient. Rocky came in with a young child. The boy's mother is the patient. Margaret?"
"Oh… that one. Yes, he's down that hallway."
"Is he okay?" I asked, heart pounding out of my chest.
"Both he and the boy are fine. But the mother… Well, I'm not allowed to say until I get the green light from a doctor."
"Thank you!" I said, grabbing both Freckle and Ivy as well sprinted down the hall. Through an open door I could make out the familiar set of ears.
"Rocky!" Freckle shouted as he ran up to his cousin. "What happened?" Ivy asked.
Rocky showed his face, tears streaming down his cheeks and eyes red from crying. The boy was in even worse shape. "What the hell happened?" I asked as all three of us hugged them.
"She… I don't know what they called it. It was-"
"Embolism in the brain." The doctor said as he entered the room. He turned to his assistant with all the paperwork. "Record time of death at 6:18 pm, September 28th, 1927."
"What's an embolism?" Ivy asked.
"Basically, it's like a clot. It traveled from an internal injury Margaret sustained up to her brain where it got stuck. It caused a stroke that proved fatal. By the time a nurse caught it, we were already too late."
"Dear God..." Freckle muttered. He too looked down at the boy who refused to show his face. Rocky was doing his best to comfort him, but Joseph was inconsolable.
"I'll… give you all the time you need to get your friend ready. We'll be needing this room later today. Dorothy up front will have paperwork to sign for next of kin."
"Sir, her next of kin is a little boy." Freckle said.
"You mean none of you are the patient's family?"
"No. She lived alone. We pulled her out of the building last night after the storm passed."
"I see. In that case I had better phone up the orphanage nearby and…"
"That won't be necessary." Rocky said, standing up and wiping his eyes with his free hand.
"Rocky, you can't possibly think that—" Freckle tried to speak up, realizing what Rocky's plan is.
"Time and place, Freckle. Not here." I mediated.
"Is there a funeral home you'd like us to contact? A priest, perhaps?" The doctor asked as he filled out forms.
"Actually, there is. It's a small operation out in Defiance. Arbogast funeral home. Tell them that Ethan Kelly will help make funeral arrangements." I said. "I'll write down the phone number and address on the way out, come on guys. Let's head back to the house and figure stuff out."
Walking back out to the car, the morning sun warmed our faces in the early autumn air. October was just around the corner and cold weather would be upon us soon. Getting back to the farm would be the challenge today, but first we had to regroup at Wick's estate. All was silent on the way back. Rocky had to let Joseph sit between him and myself, he had been holding that kid in his arms now for many hours. At one point we passed a neighborhood that had been wrecked and the first time we saw the extent of the damage. It was as if some great giant had dragged a rake through the middle of town. The scar on the city was twelve miles long, or at least that was our detour.
I took things slow and steady, but still got back in a reasonable amount of time. Pulling in beside the farm truck the band used to get across town, I stopped the engine and set the brake. Only now was the fatigue of the past day starting to wear on me, so I slumped over the steering wheel for a minute. At least the kid was starting to do something other than sob uncontrollably. I understood the pain all to well, but at some point, we were going to need to get him cleaned up, fed, and resting in a soft, warm bed.
"Alright kid. It's been a rough day so far, and I am so, so sorry for what's happened. But I bet you're tired and hungry, so for now let's just focus on getting you cleaned up and putting some proper food in your belly. Okay?" I said.
Joseph nodded silently.
"I'll take him." Ivy said, holding out her hand so that he could follow her inside. "The boys need a minute anyway." She said to the kid as they walked off.
"Rocky, I—"
"We're not sending him to an orphanage, Ethan." Rocky said, not even looking in our direction.
"We can talk about that later."
"We can talk about it now."
"Look, you clearly know what I'm going to say. You probably know what Freckle is going to say. Let's just agree for now that Joseph will stay with us until we get a real plan together. You both have been through a lot in the last day, we don't need to make any decisions now."
I could hear him breathe deeply as he sat up and slumped back down. "Rocky, you did your best." Freckle said as he got out of the back seat and opened the passenger door.
"But it wasn't good enough." he said as he fell into Freckle's arms.
"It often isn't, cousin. There wasn't anything more you could do though."
Guilt started to creep in. Could we have done anything different? I personally was about to let her die to keep my own family safe, but now it was obvious that this would have been a terrible choice no matter how rational. We had a responsibility to act, and it was Ivy who did what had to be done. But a stroke? How could we have predicted that?
Helping Freckle with Rocky, we each took him by an arm and kept him propped up between us. "Come on, buddy. You look like shit, and I smell like shit. How about we get cleaned up while the ladies make a big stack of pancakes?"
The Walls
"Cough one more time for me, Rickaby." The Doctor said. Ransom obliged. Feeling carefully around the abdomen, he shook his head.
"What do I have, doc?"
"I just wanted to be sure. You've got gastric cancer. I'm afraid it's terminal. That tumor we took out of you two months ago wasn't enough. Your insides are riddled with smaller ones now. The doctor pulled up X-ray charts proving it fatal news. "It's spread up into your lungs, which is why you've been coughing for the last two weeks."
"So, this is it then?"
"I'm afraid so. You've got about four months, maybe less. I wish I could say it would be a pleasant experience, but I'd be lying."
"Well, I guess I'll at least have a lot of time to think about it." Ransom said as he put his shirt back on. "May I ask a favor?"
"If it's drugs or a quick death, I'm not able to provide either." The doctor said, putting his tools away.
"Keep the diagnosis between us. That's all I'm asking. Not even the guards can know. Anyone who senses weakness will also sense an opportunity, and I'd rather not die by getting pummeled to death."
"You have confidentiality here, even in prison. I won't let it slip until you're in the infirmary."
"That works for me, thanks Doc."
Hours later he was reading in his cell. A book on philosophy. Perhaps there would be some wisdom there for him to use in his final weeks? Two guards came up to the door and rattled the door. "Rickaby! You've got a visitor."
"Visitor? Now that's something I never thought I'd hear. Who is it?"
"Don't know. Now, do you want to talk to him or not?"
"I suppose. Would be rather rude of me not to. He is the first person to walk in here to see me since I got put in here."
Flanked by a guard on each side, Ransom walked through the long corridors. Three levels high and filled to the brim with Missouri's worst, Ransom could at least say he was here for lesser crimes. Theft, extortion, smuggling banned substances, all of that would have given him a slap on the wrist. It was an armed robbery that ended up with someone getting hurt that finally put him in this living hell. Pushing fifty now, his body was finally succumbing to an incurable disease. The ultimate punishment for abusing his own body.
He noticed that the guards weren't taking him to the regular visitor area. "I don't suppose my lawyer has finally pulled through?" He asked the guard just outside a door.
"Not quite, but I suggest not getting smart with this guy." The guard said while opening the door. Ransom was escorted in and placed in a solitary chair at a small table. The door shut with a "thud". Out of the shadows emerged a young, lean cat with an open file that had his name on it.
"Well, Mr. Rickaby. This is quite the rap sheet. But it seems you have plenty of talents being a street criminal."
"If this is about some other crime you think I did, I know my rights. If it's about someone else, I'm no snitch."
"Not a snitch, huh? How about an informant?" The cat sat down at the table.
"Isn't that pretty much the same thing? I'd be dead in a week if I started squealing on others in this joint."
"Oh, I don't need you to tell me anything about people here. My name is Ulysses Maher. I'm an agent with the Treasury Department recently assigned to St. Louis. You could be most valuable to my plans in that town."
"I've got a bit of a history in St. Louis. What did you have in mind?"
"Surely you recognize this young man…" Ulysses slid a photo across the table. Ransom knew exactly who it was. "Rocky…" he said.
"It seems your son has found himself in the company of some less-than reputable people. Just like his old man, wouldn't you say?"
"Where was that picture taken?"
"Outside a gin joint that should have died with its owner. The Lackadaisy. As of late it has made a resurgence, and it is now a subject of great interest to me."
"So, you want me to do what, exactly?"
"Use your son to infiltrate the speakeasy. I can't get anyone who could infiltrate the Russos or the Green Ones or the Santinos, but the Lackadaisy is just small and desperate enough to let you in. All I'm going to want from you is information. Who knows what, where alcohol sources are, information of that nature."
"You realize I haven't even seen the kid in close to twenty years. He's as liable to kill me as he is to welcome me in."
"I assume you can charm your way past any resistance. Besides, it's not like you'd be stabbing your own son in the back. If my information is correct, he plays the violin down there. The speakeasy itself isn't even my main target. All those people you'll be interacting with? Small potatoes compared to the big prize."
"Now we're getting to the truth of it. What you really want." Ransom said, smiling.
"Me? I want justice and the law to prevail."
"Oh, of course you do. But I can read a cat like a book. Let me guess, you just got promoted to a field agent and you want to make a name for yourself. Sound about right?"
Ulysses didn't reply, but the silence was all Ransom needed.
"Suppose I did agree to this. What do I get in return?"
"You'll be a free man, Ransom. Your services to my cause will be more than enough to earn your parole."
A chance at being free in his final months? How could he say no to such an opportunity? As for his son, he barely knew the kid. If he was indeed just the violinist, then it would be an easy task. Get in, get the information this guy wanted, and get out before anyone caught on.
"So, how does that strike you?"
"I think you've got yourself an informant, agent Ulysses."