Back to You, page 19
“Ye’re a leftie?”
I confirmed it, earning me a grunt. “Should do ye well,” was all Michael said on it, but if I wasn’t mistaken, he looked mildly impressed.
He had me practice my slashes, ducking and moving out of the way of his thrusts and fumbling and moving in ways my body wasn’t used to. The exertion took the chill out of the air, and sweat trickled down my face as I tried to stab Michael through his shoulder. He slapped the knife out of my hand, making it fly across the ground. With a growl, he went to retrieve it. I tried not to scowl at him as I thought how spectacularly my left hand failed me.
“What?” I put my hands on my waist defiantly. Michael wasn’t a patient instructor.
“That’s enough for today.” He handed me the knife. “I expect ye to be better prepared tomorrow.”
“It was my first day,” I mumbled, more to myself than to him, but he had already disappeared without a glance towards Shay.
I sat on the step next to her, wiping my sweaty face.
“What are we doing here?” Shay asked, staring at the red sunrise that had taken over the grey sky.
I hid my shaking hands in my dress and shrugged. “Surviving.”
The weeks went by in a haze until I fell into a stupor every night, too exhausted to move. The early morning training and late-night singing wore on me.
However, my exhaustion didn’t stop basic anatomy, and I quickly had to obtain flannel cloths for my monthly flow. Without modern, feminine products, I had to ask Mira to help me. I tried to play it off as a lack of supplies rather than a lack of nineteenth-century knowledge. With questions in her eyes, Mira showed me how to properly clean them and hang them up to dry where no one could see them. I hadn’t ever felt so awkward and embarrassed from being a woman until I returned to a time when we were considered inferior.
By the time I survived the week, and another one was nearing an end, we couldn’t ignore that Shay still hadn’t had hers, though we didn’t mention it. She began to withdraw again, staying inside and often staring at nothing, going off into her own world. I worried about her as I took orders, swept the floor, and learned different baking techniques from Rose. Shay helped when she was mentally present, but we didn’t push her.
It wasn’t until I came upstairs for a break one morning and found Shay heaving into a bedpan that I knew our suspicions were confirmed. Still, I went to her, hoping for the best.
“Hey, you okay?” I asked when she finished. I pulled her braids back and put a wet rag on her neck. I noticed how much her hair had grown and made a mental note to ask Rose about helping style it. My main goal was to make Shay as comfortable as I possibly could.
Shay sat back on the floor and rested against the side of the bed. “Just great.” Tears fell from her closed eyes.
I sat down and grabbed her hand. “Is there anything I can do? Do you—” I paused, not sure how to go on. “Do you want me to figure out how to handle it?”
Her tears were now a flood cascading down her face. She only shook her head.
“It would be dangerous right now,” I admitted. “But I could try to find someone. I don’t—” I tried to keep myself from crying, wanting to be strong for her. “I don’t want you to go through any more than you already did.”
Shay finally opened her eyes, laying her head back to look at me. “I want to keep it.”
That took me back. I scanned her face, but only found resolve. “Okay,” I said, my head going through every scenario and calculating the months until her due date. “I’ll push Michael to look faster. We’ll try to get out before January. I mean, hopefully we’re out by the end of summer, but—”
She placed her hand on my arm, and I stopped babbling. “You’re doing enough, Millie.”
“But—”
“It’s not your fault.” She straightened, always stronger than me. “Women have babies all the time. I’ll be okay.”
“It’s dangerous, though,” I whispered.
“That’s why you’re still looking for our way back home.” She smiled sadly. Here she was, the battered one, still comforting me like she always did.
I shook my head, disgusted with myself.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” she said. “You’re practically killing yourself trying to keep a roof over our head, while looking for our way out, and you still think you’re not doing enough. Stop blaming yourself for stuff out of your control, and start looking at everything you’re doing.” She grabbed my hand in both of hers. “How I see it, we’re stuck in this time. You’re learning, adapting, and I’m useless. I’m the one you should be mad at.”
I flinched as if she had struck me. “You need time to heal.”
“I am healed,” she said defiantly.
“Shay, these things take time…”
“I want to learn how to fight, too.” She pegged me with a sharp stare when I began to protest. “If we’re here for any amount of time, I need to know how to protect myself. And my baby.”
I looked down and noticed her hands covering her stomach as if already protecting it.
“He’s not going to like it,” I admitted.
“I know.”
“I don’t like you having to deal with him. I know you like trying to see the good in everyone, but he’s—”
“He’s helping you,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, after I give him all my money.” I laughed darkly. “He’s a racist asshole, Shay. And, if you haven’t noticed, it’s not uncommon here. I’d feel better if you stayed where it’s safe.”
“I can’t hide forever. Don’t you think I’ve noticed the war that’s going on?”
“Well, yeah.” I squinted at her, unsure what the war had to do with anything. “So?”
“This war is a pivotal moment in history.” She said it slowly as if I was missing something vital. “After everything that’s happened, I think I want to help.”
“Help?” Maybe I was slower than I realized because I had no idea where this was coming from. “Help how?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe we can find organizations to help the war effort. Or help in the hospitals or something.”
“We don’t know anything about nursing.” But the intent on her face had me conceding. It occurred to me that she might use this as a coping method. “I’ll ask around and see if there’s anything we can do. You still want me to look for a way home, right?” I felt like I had entered the twilight zone, entirely blindsided by each day.
“Yeah, I just want to help while I can, you know? Make a difference. I feel like maybe we’re here for a reason.”
As Shay rubbed her belly and stared at the wall for the first time, I wondered if I was meant to be in this time.
Chapter twenty
Thomas
June 1861
A light drizzle misted Thomas as he wiped the blood off his knuckles and turned away from the unconscious man, rolling his shoulder to loosen the ache. But unfortunately, it did nothing to ease his shame.
Spring had turned into summer while he waited for the strength to return in his shoulder. Thomas kept his mouth shut as Mikey brought him farther down the rabbit hole. Of course, Thomas drew his limits, but he was desperate for cash and often followed his brother’s orders. Two months in, Thomas began to think the extra money wasn’t worth it.
As the contracts for the enlisted men were about to end, they still clashed with the South. Their promise of a quick victory was crumbling as the rebels fought back with more force than expected, and Thomas was more than eager to fight for his country.
With Thomas’s growing strength, Mikey began using him differently. No longer was Thomas confined to thievery and blackmail. He had a natural talent for fighting and finding weak spots. A talent Mikey found invaluable when he wanted to keep his other men in the dark and one that Thomas had long tried to repress.
It was mid-June when Mikey found out one of his boys had been skimming some of the drugs off his shipments. Having been tipped off, they met on Long Wharf, where the transaction was to take place. Night had fallen, and most workers and pedestrians were already gone, so they didn’t have to worry about being spotted lurking in the shadows. They waited for the two buyers to leave the warehouse before blocking Byrne’s way.
Thomas threw him against the wall, stunning him with a fist to his face. He pummeled him until he was doubled over, dripping blood. Thomas shut off his consciousness and let his body do what his mind refused to accept.
Mikey grabbed the money and quickly counted it. When Thomas was nearly done, Mikey grabbed a handful of Byrne’s hair, pulling his head up so he could glare into his eyes. “Ye’re out, boyo. Ye can thank me for sparing your life by never showing face again.”
“Mikey, it’s not—”
Mikey slammed his face into the sidewalk, rendering him unconscious.
“Good work, Tommy boy,” Mikey said, earning him a glare.
Mikey bent down, grabbed Byrne under the arms, and dragged him between the buildings where no one would find him until morning.
“I need to be able to trust me men,” Mikey went on.
Thomas pocketed the bloody handkerchief he used to clean his knuckles. “Sounds like ye need better men.”
“Precisely,” Mikey smiled, holding his arms out in invitation. “With both of us, we could triple business. What do ye say?”
“No.”
“I’ve been expanding,” Mikey admitted. “Thought my interests might go beyond selling. Ye might find it beneficial. I already have a few jobs set up, bringing in some cash. Been looking into buying one of Billy Mead’s saloons. I already have the entertainment bringing in some money, and—”
“Not interested.”
Mikey grumbled about a lass not hesitating, but Thomas had heard enough. “Ye could help me run the saloon,” Mikey persisted. “Be more on the straight and narrow, deartháir.”
“Ye know ye can’t be good for more than a day. And we both know it’ll be swarming with crooks gambling their life away within the first year.”
Mikey ground his teeth, his jaw ticking in frustration. “Think about it. I’ll pull the offer at the end of summer. Just know, I’m pulling in honest money with me entertainment—”
Thomas cut him off, “What is this ‘entertainment?’” A suspicious prickling sensation crawled over his skin as if he should already know the answer.
“Some lasses—”
Thomas shook his head and began to walk away. “I’ve heard enough,” he threw over his shoulder.
“I really think it would serve ye some interest.” Something in his voice had Thomas turning around. Mikey’s hands were in his pockets, a cocky grin on his face. Was he taunting him?
“Aye? And why is that?”
Mikey shrugged. “Come see for yourself. Ye know where to find it.”
One of the serving girls set down another pint in front of Thomas. He nodded his thanks and began to chug it.
“Are you doing all right?” Hiram asked, concern creasing his brows.
“Fine.” Thomas slammed the empty pint on the table and signaled for another. He tried to ignore how Hiram and Jackson exchanged a look.
“Is it your shoulder?” Jackson asked.
Thomas glared at everyone. “Are ye going to be fussing over me like some ‘ol biddies? I wouldn’t have come around if ye are.”
Sam tilted his head, glaring at Thomas. “We haven’t seen you around much.”
“Yeah?” Thomas looked into his pint as if it held all the answers. “Well, I’ve been busy.”
“Busy running with your no-good brother?” Sam snapped.
“Aye, guess I have.” Thomas looked up then and met his eye, neither wanting to break contact first.
“I saw Miss Millie a few weeks back.” That drew Thomas’ attention. The whole table went silent, waiting for the dime to drop. “She asked about you.” Isaac leaned back in his chair, obviously pleased with himself. “Tell me, have you heard from her lately?
Thomas scratched his whiskers, trying to hide his interest. “No, should I?”
“Enough,” Hiram said, throwing Isaac a warning look.
Thomas glared at Hiram.
“I would think you would,” Isaac went on, shrugging. “Since you’re working for the same person.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Thomas snapped, leaning his elbows on the table.
No one answered as Thomas eyed each of his friends.
“Have ye all known something I haven’t?”
Hiram sat back and ran his hand over his cropped hair. “Look, Tommy. We hear she’s been singing at one of Billy Mead’s saloons. The talk is that Mikey has a nice spot for her up there.”
“Mikey? Me brother?” He squinted, trying to understand. Then realization dawned as Mikey’s comments started to make sense. “Why would she do that?”
Hiram shrugged. “I don’t know, but they’ve got a good deal going on. She’s been bringing in a lot of men.” A jolt went through Thomas. Hiram must have noticed because he quickly clarified. “Not like that, brother. She’s been singing as others go through the men.”
“And ye know all this how?”
Thomas eyed them, waiting for someone to respond. Isaac leaned back in his chair, looking around the room as Sam and Jackson stared at the table.
Hiram sighed. “You know we can’t enter Mead’s.” Billy Mead was known for enforcing the Fugitive Slave Act and was one of the thugs blocking the courthouse against any attempts to rescue Anthony Burns. Even if he would let them in, they refused to enter any business of Billy’s or the Mead brothers. “I heard it from some of the men on the docks.”
Thomas rubbed his chest, trying to loosen the knot threatening to crush his ribcage.
“Anything else I can get you, boys?” the server asked, smiling sweetly as she set another pint in front of Thomas.
The others gave her an order, while Thomas rubbed his hands over his face, trying to gather his thoughts. Why would Emilia want to work with his brother? Thomas knew he’d hurt her when he refused to believe her, but he couldn’t think of one good reason for Emilia to work with Mikey. Unless she found comfort—
No, he couldn’t think about that. The rage he tried to drown in alcohol bubbled back to the surface. He slammed some money on the table, chugged the pint in one pull, and stood up to leave.
“Sit down,” Hiram said, standing up as if to stop him.
“I’m just going for a look.”
Hiram scrunched his face in disbelief. “If you go there, I can’t go with you.”
“I know,” Thomas said, donning his cap. “Don’t worry. It’s just a look.”
Hiram shook his head and sat down reluctantly. “I can’t stop you. Just don’t get in trouble. I won’t be there to get you out of it.”
“She deserves more than what your about to do, man,” Isaac said seriously, putting all four legs of his chair back on the ground.
Thomas ground his teeth but nodded. Even sloshed, he could see that his friends were just looking out for him, or rather the lass he couldn’t seem to keep away from. That thought drew more respect from Thomas than he was willing to admit.
He bumped into a man on the short walk there and almost lost his balance. Feck, how much did he drink? Thomas took a minute to orient himself, the crowd tilting as they passed him. He swallowed, wondering for the first time if he should be doing this.
Maybe the lads are right, he thought. Then, almost within the same breath, the alcohol fueled his stubborn nature, and he walked the rest of the way to Billy Mead’s Saloon. He didn’t stop to listen to the piano or the hypnotic voice of the woman singing. Sliding in behind a group by the door, he found a seat in the back, his cap low over his face as he took in the room.
Billy Mead’s Saloon was more dignified in its style, adorned with leather seats, polished tables, and brass fixtures. At least there wasn’t a pissing trough by the bar. A row of stools were propped in front of the long bar that took up the entire right side of the room, and small circular tables filled up the rest, spaced for an excellent view of the stage.
Thomas dared to look at Emilia as she leaned against the piano, bending her head back and exposing her long neck to the top of her low-cut dress. She had exchanged her plain green dress for a finer red one. Her ensemble only heightened her exotic beauty, exposing the plains of an exquisite land he’d never explored. He shook his head as if he could physically expel the images that flashed through his mind at the thought.
He looked around the room instead, wondering if the other lads were affected the same way. Nearly the whole saloon consisted of men, except for the slags peppered throughout the crowd, searching for their next target to corrupt, and the barmaids weaving in and out to take orders. Which wasn’t uncommon. Most of these saloons were filled with gamblers and men trying to find a slag; the entertainment usually was a derivative. Though it looked like Emilia had a majority of the attention on her.
A strange prickling sensation overcame Thomas, making him roll his shoulders, trying to dispel his growing agitation as the other men stared at Emilia. Of course, she wasn’t his, but his entire body responded with a possessiveness that he couldn’t control. He let out a long breath, reminding himself that he needed to keep his distance.
The song ended, drawing hoots and hollers for more. Emilia smiled, the room brightening as she did, and looked off to the side. Thomas followed her gaze. The familiar face had him sitting straight as his brother nodded at Emilia to continue. A flash of red drew his attention back to the stage as she prepared for the next song, prompting Thomas to slide back down in his seat to avoid being seen by either of them.
Thomas glared at Mikey, thinking of all the ways he’d kill his brother. He would skin him alive if he touched one hair on her body. Just the thought of his brother spending so much time with Emilia infuriated him. It was his fault, though. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt the need to work with Mikey if he had just tried to believe her.
Thomas began to stand up when Emilia started walking through the crowd, using it as a distraction for a quick escape. But the song cut short, and out of his peripheral, the red suddenly disappeared into the dull crowd. Thomas froze, trying to spot her among the laughing men. The moment he did, all his blood rushed to his throat in a fit of rage.
