Beneath the Apple Leaves(87)

“That’s why I had to do something,” said the sheriff. “Least now Danny can save face. Mr. Simpson can tell people you’ve been punished. Danny be heading to training in another week and it’ll be over. Just got to sit it out until then.”

“Doesn’t give a man much comfort seeing I’m sitting in a jail like Prager.”

“You’re safe here, kid. I’m tougher than I look. Besides, police in Illinois didn’t try to stop the mob. Between you and me, my wife’s half-German. Hard keeping that stuff hidden. Having a name like Kiser is like a curse. Nowhere to hide.”

“I’m not German.” It was the first time he said it out loud and he wasn’t sure why he did. “My last name is Houghton.”

“Well, why on God’s earth didn’t you say something before?”

“Would it have mattered?”

The sheriff shook his head. “No. Not as long as you’re living with the Kisers.”

“They’re good people. Love this country as much as the Simpsons. Except they don’t have to attack people to prove it.”

The sheriff took in the words and shrugged. “A strange time,” he said slowly. “A strange time indeed.”

The bell rang at the front door. “Speak of the devil. No pun intended.” The sheriff rose and pushed in his chair. “Probably your uncle now.”

The sheriff left and when he returned a few minutes later someone other than Andrew’s uncle was by his side. Lily. Her hair brushed smoothed and clipped behind with a beaded barrette. Her dress was new, pressed and tailored. She wore heels and clutched a small purse in her hands. “Hello, Andrew.”

He hardly recognized her, the demeanor stoic and serious, like a different version of his friend had sprouted in her place, and he was left speechless. “Was just explaining to Sheriff Tipney that I witnessed the entire exchange with you and Dan Simpson. That it was me who hit Dan over the head.”

Andrew rose. “You shouldn’t be here, Lily.”

“Of course I should be here. Frank sent me.”

The sheriff unlocked the cell door and opened it slowly. “Looks like you got a witness.” He turned to Lily. “You sure Frank said he should be released?”

“Positive.”

He held the door open. “Got a guardian angel after all, kid.”

Andrew followed Lily to the buggy, her posture stiff as she walked with purpose and without a word. She picked up the reins with confidence and clicked the horse to move. When they reached the far edge of town, Lily’s shoulders relaxed. She pulled the buggy to the side of the road. “I’m not going to be able to see you for a while,” she uttered plainly.

“Frank didn’t authorize my release, did he?”

She was silent for a moment and her eyes fluttered nervously. “No.”

Andrew wished she had left him in the cell. “Shouldn’t have done it, Lily.”

She swallowed, tried to look brave. “I’m a grown woman, Andrew.”

“What are you going to do when he finds out?”

She made a poor attempt at a grin. “Hide.”

“You aren’t going back there.”

“I am going back there.” The tone was firm. “Just leave it be.”

“I can’t have you disappearing out of my life again, Lily. I can’t. I have to know you’re all right.”

“I told you to let it go. Look,” she pleaded with a drawn face, “just give me some time to smooth it over. All right?”

“All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “Just do one thing for me?”

“What’s that?”

“Meet me at the spring in the woods on Friday. Frank heads to Pittsburgh for his meetings then, right?”

She paled. “I don’t know.”

“Please, Lily. Will you meet me there?” he asked again.

A long pause and then she nodded once. “Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.” She nodded again, her expression worried but truthful. “I promise.”

Andrew kissed her on the cheek and jumped from the buggy. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“Have to take care of something in town.” He gripped the smooth wood of the buggy as if he planned to keep it from moving. “If Frank bothers you, you get out of there, Lily. You hear me?”

She smiled meekly. “You just worry about yourself, Mr. Houghton.” And with that she clicked and set the horse at an even, high-stepping trot out of town.

The gravel crunched under Andrew’s worn boots as he headed behind the town shops, avoiding the main road and the people at its core. The hot afternoon sedated the branches of the overhanging trees.

The night spent in the jail had altered him. Messages drifted from dreams; images splashed and stayed lucid upon his awakening on the hard cot. Focused clarity brought intent, direction, and his skin pulsed. Change embedded the molecules of the air and left it living and breathing. He remembered the letter from his mother and his hair prickled. He thought of the Kisers, the family who took him in when no one else would, who defended him as one of their own.

Take care of your family. Always. Frederick Houghton’s voice, the husky sound that had been absent for so long, whispered in his ear during the night. The Kisers were his family now. The old farmhouse was his home; his cousins, his brothers. A sudden pride burned. Then Lily. And the future took shape from the past, birthed new.