Eden
Eden loved her job. It was so…normal. She hadn’t felt this alive or free since before Tony died and she’d met Porter. She relished meeting new customers every day and greeting those she’d served before. For the first time since becoming an adult, she felt competent. In control. Ms. Kate was right about the money, too. Her first week, even after sharing tips, she cleared over two hundred dollars. If this kept up, she’d be able to move into an apartment in weeks, maybe a couple of months. She might have to share it with a roommate, but she’d learned from the other waitresses that most did just that. She’d made a solid beginning.
One night at about seven, two men came into Callahan’s. One was tall and stocky, the other average height but wiry. The tall man had thinning sandy hair and a pronounced chin. The other had curly dark hair and wore glasses. They took a table in the back. Eden was covering for another waitress, so she hurried over to take their drink order.
“Hi. I’m Lisa and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” She smiled. “Can I start you out with a drink?”
The man with the glasses looked up, then did a double take and stared at Eden. “Are you new here?”
Eden wasn’t sure where he was going with the question, and that made her nervous. “Yes,” she said tentatively. “Is there a problem?”
“You look—are you related to Georgia Davis? Or Savannah Prescott?”
“Who?” Her smile froze.
“My god. You could be her double! Your hair’s different, but otherwise… Are you cousins or something?”
Now Eden was worried. Who were these men? Why were they here? Was this a trick? Were they from Nauvoo?
Her tone became brusque. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. Now, are you interested in a drink?”
“I’m sorry,” the wiry man said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. My name is Matt Singer, and you look exactly like my ex-girlfriend. Her name is Georgia Davis. John, don’t you agree?”
The other man had been studying Eden’s face. “There’s an uncanny resemblance. You could be her twin.” He rubbed his nose. “I’m John Stone. My pal Singer’s still got a jones for the woman.” He turned to Singer. “It’s been five years since they were together. Time to move on, you’d think.”
Singer shrugged.
“Hey, Lisa. We didn’t mean to disturb you. Sorry.” Stone scanned the list of beers. He looked up. “We’ll both have what’s on draft tonight.”
“That would be Michelob or Pale Ale—Sierra Nevada.”
“Two pale ales. And some menus, please.”
“Coming up.” Eden tried to smile, but she was flustered. She couldn’t figure out why these men would make a point of commenting on how much she looked like someone else. Mormons weren’t stupid. Some were even strategic thinkers. Was this a ploy? Were they trying to get her to admit who she really was?
During the rest of her shift, Eden jumped when a customer called her over. She bit her lip and missed, painfully scraping the inside of her mouth instead. She even made a mistake and brought one couple the wrong order. One of her “regulars,” if you could call a week of serving a drinker a “regular,” commented that she looked a little frazzled.
“Just tired, Jake. I haven’t totally adjusted to the late hours.”
“Well, if you ever need anything, I’m here for you. You want my cell number? In case of emergency?”
“I don’t use a cell. But thanks for the offer.”
“You’ve got to be the only woman in Chicago who doesn’t.”
“So I understand.” She smiled. Maybe she should just relax. Since she started at Callahan’s, she’d received a lot of attention, especially from men like Jake. To be honest, she basked in it at first; no one had paid attention to her in years. Maybe she was making too much of the two men. There were no further words, and they left around nine with casual waves at Eden. At the end of her shift, though, her anxiety was still high. She asked one of the busboys to walk her to the corner of her block.
Should she worry? Was someone tracking her? Who was this Georgia? Eden’s intuition told her to flee. If Porter had sent men down to find her, how did they manage it? She thought she was being so careful. Or was someone selling her out? Like those women Alicia was talking about? But who? Certainly not Ms. Kate or the women at the shelter. She had only been there a week.
Back in her room, she wished she could talk it over with Alicia, but Alicia was already fast asleep, snoring lightly. Eden’s wonder and delight in her new “normal” life vanished. She felt trapped. She had to do something—and fast.