Chapter 37

I ain’t going to no hospital.” Her father threw the chair back from the table.

Laurie kept a safe distance, choosing not to argue. Plant the seed and give it time to grow.

“Hospitals are for sick folk. There ain’t nothing wrong with me.” He grabbed another biscuit from the platter and trudged from the room.

She cleared the table, consumed by thoughts of Daniel. A sharp pain gouged through her heart every time she pictured his distraught face and remembered the door closing behind him.

Lord, you sent me an honest man and I shattered any chance I had with him.

“You’ve forgotten that your mother died in one of those places. Like I’d ever step foot there, again.” Her father’s muffled voice echoed from the far end of the house.

Laurie carried the dishes to the sink and stopped to gaze out at the darkening sky. She hadn’t dared stop in at the drugstore this morning. And the curb outside the exchange remained empty.

Her lips tingled with the memory of their evening on the bluff. One kiss. That’s all she got? She blinked away the tears. No good would come from dwelling on it.

Johnny would be going on his second-to-last shipment tonight and he’d promised not to bring any of the whiskey to their father. She stopped and closed her eyes. Lord, keep him safe. A lump formed in her throat. Was it wrong to pray protection over someone who was knowingly committing a sinful act? She opened her eyes and swished a hand through the warm soapy water, tiny waves splashing over the dirty dishes.

“No hospitals!” Her father hollered down the hall.

Maybe she was praying for the wrong family member.

The telephone rang, causing Laurie to jump and splash suds across the floor.

“Aren’t you going to answer that? Isn’t that what they pay you to do?” Dad’s voice floated in between rings.

She grasped the receiver and lifted it to her ear. Out of habit, she straightened her neck and summoned her most melodic voice. “Hello, Burke residence.”

“Hello, Miss Operator.”

“Johnny?” She sputtered, all pretense vanishing. “What are you doing? I thought you were out—working, tonight.”

“Johnny?” Her dad stuck his head into the kitchen. “He ain’t working tonight. Is that him on the telephone?”

She covered the mouthpiece. “Just a minute, Dad.” She lowered her voice and moved her fingers away. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t talk, Sis. But I need help. One of our guys can’t make it.”

Her heart lurched. “Why are you calling me? What can I do?”

“We need a spotter. I don’t know who else to ask.”

Laurie leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. “I couldn’t possibly . . . ”

“It’s just one night, Laurie.”

She tugged on her earlobe. “No. Just call it off for tonight.”

She could hear Johnny’s breathing through the receiver. “Not possible. We already put in an order; we’ve got to be there to get it. All you got to do is take Dad’s Ford and drive out to the water. When you spot our light, flash the headlamps to show us it’s safe. Come on, Laurie, I’m desperate.”

She dug her fingernails into her palm. “Johnny­—”

“Let me talk to him.” Her father stomped into the room, gesturing for the telephone.

Laurie’s stomach dropped. “Dad­—”

“Give me the telephone, Laurie.”

She passed it to him, her fingers trembling.

His large hand closed over the receiver. “Johnny?” He stopped and listened as Laurie stepped backward.

“Yeah, you got more for me?”

She turned and walked back to the sink, the muscles in her neck tightening into a hopeless knot. Her father’s voice rose in pitch as he talked.

This was shaping up to be a rough night.

She rinsed the last dish and lifted it from the dripping water just in time to hear her father return the receiver to the telephone with a disgusted grunt.

“Johnny said he’d meet you at 3 o’clock at Freshwater Bay.” He turned and scowled at Laurie. “You two got a picnic planned or something?”

Laurie stood mute, water dripping from the plate suspended in her hand.

He rubbed his shoulder and grimaced. “I’m going out. Don’t wait up.”

Laurie shut her bedroom door, her heart hammering in her chest. She paced to the window and laid her forehead against it. God, what do I do?

The half-moon shone its thin light down on the side of the house and across the empty spot normally occupied by the Model T. Now, even if she wanted to help Johnny, she had no automobile.

Laurie pressed her hand against her stomach. She needed to do something, but every choice seemed impossible. As soon as her father had left, she’d tried telephoning Johnny, but the line had gone unanswered.

I can’t let him land without a spotter. She pulled away from the window and stumbled back to the bed. She could call Daniel, but he didn’t approve of the rumrunning any more than she did. Did she want to admit to him that she was considering helping out with it?

How could she not?

Laurie pulled her sketchbook from under her pillow. It lay open to the portrait she had drawn of Daniel at Crescent Beach. Rather than the shadowy figure of that first night, in this one he stood on the shore, a rock in his hand and arm cocked to skip it along the top of the water. His handsome face shone with a trace of little-boy glee.

She closed the book and pushed it back under her pillow.

Could she now call him and ask him to return to the beach to help with a whiskey delivery?

What choice do I have?

Laurie drove her fist into the pillow. How dare Johnny put her in this position? She hit the pillow a second time, momentarily placated by the lovely “thwump” sound it made. Picking it up, she slammed it hard on the bed, feeling the tightness in her arms easing with the movement.

Casting the pillow aside, she strode to her closet and pulled out an old wool sweater and a scarf to wrap around her head. Somehow, she was going to be on that beach by the time the boats arrived—even if she had to steal a car to do so.

Laurie sprinted toward town, the road flying by under her hurrying feet. Once she decided, she didn’t want to give herself a moment to doubt. She clutched a cloth bag against her side, her father’s military flashlight nestled cozily with his old army knife. She might as well have pulled on his uniform while she was at it, since she raced toward an impossible battle.

Daniel, I need your automobile. I’ll bring it back, I promise. The very idea made her laugh, tears stinging her eyes. Daniel, think how romantic the beach is by moonlight.

Maybe she could just borrow the Buick and have it back before he even missed it.

As she approached the edge of Lincoln Park, she slowed to a stop and clutched at her sweater in aggravation. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. First a liar, then a bootlegger’s assistant—now a thief?

Her insides roiled. Wrapping both arms around herself, she rubbed hands up and down her sleeves, shivering in the cool night air. Stars dotted the sky, an example of God’s artistry at work. Her heart slowed.

Daniel had said, “People make their own choices. You can’t protect them from the consequences.”

Just as she’d made her choices and lost him.

She pulled her eyes away from the stars and noticed a Model T parked askew in the shadows of the trees. A man’s arm—clad in a familiar twill sleeve—dangled out over the door, his head lolled back on the seat as if asleep.

Or worse.

A prickle raced up her neck. She crept up and peered in at her father’s sleeping form, his snores rattling the seat springs. The stench of alcohol was unmistakable, even if she hadn’t seen the empty bottle splayed across his lap.

She blew out a hissing breath. As if this night couldn’t get more complicated. Laurie prodded his arm. “Dad, wake up.”

Her father slumped to the side, the bottle rolling from his lap onto the floor. He mumbled a few unintelligible words into the seat cushion.

She banged a hand against the door and reached for the handle. “Move over, I’ll drive you home.”

Laurie yanked the door open. “I should leave you here. It would serve you right.” With a sigh, she tossed her bag onto the floor and wedged her arms under him. Grunting, she dug her shoes against the earth and heaved. Managing to slide him a few inches, she braced herself against the car door and jostled him a little further before collapsing against his shoulder.

Walking to the far side, she pulled open the passenger door and leaned across the seat. Pushing aside his jacket and vest, she hooked her fingers on his waistband. Jerking hard, she managed to slide him across the seat. His head lolled toward her and landed heavily on her shoulder. Pushing upward, she goaded him back into a sitting position.

Closing the door, she leaned against it, panting. God, can this night get any worse? She wiped her hands down her skirt. Forget I asked that.

She settled herself in the driver’s seat and glanced over at her father, his head lolled to the side and his mouth hanging open. “I’m not responsible for your choices, Dad.” She blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes and adjusted her hat with one hand, keeping the other locked on the wheel. “And yet, somehow I’m always the one forced to pick up the pieces.”

She gripped the wheel. Now that she had the automobile, Johnny’s desperate voice tugged at her heart. How could she just leave him out there without a light to guide him? She wouldn’t really be breaking the law, would she? She’d just be flashing the headlamps a few times, bringing some sailors home. Who would know?

God would know.

Laurie pushed her fingers against her eyes. A man of honor—that’s what she kept asking from God. She lowered her head against the cold wooden steering wheel. I’d be breaking the law as surely as if I were holding the oars.

Her father coughed and shifted in his sleep, making Laurie jump and open her eyes.

A woman of honor, she thought. I’m sorry, Johnny. She reached for the ignition and cranked the Ford’s engine. Turning on the headlamps, she inched backward onto the road and turned toward home, the twin beams cutting through the murky blackness.

The dark image of an automobile parked a block ahead, caught her eye. As she drove past, her headlights glared off a memorable grill and illuminated the face of the man sitting inside. Laurie’s heart lurched. She jerked her gaze back to the road.

Samuel.