“Would you like to come and hear me?” Fiona asked Phillip.
“I’d love nothing more.” Phillip returned his attention to his soup.
Mama smiled over at me before taking a bite of her soup.
“Speaking of businesses in town, I spoke with the boys who run the saloon,” Papa said. “They’re worried about January.”
Prohibition took effect in January. The café, as it was now called, would most likely still serve drinks but in secret. Fortunately for them, our local law enforcement were frequent patrons of the saloon. Papa felt certain they would look the other way. He purposely stayed quiet about how he felt about the Eighteenth Amendment for fear of alienating either side of the political argument. He was a businessman and the self-appointed father of Emerson Pass. He saw his job as one of support and inspiration, not rules.
“What’s your opinion of Prohibition?” Mama asked Phillip. “The twins are adamantly opposed. I suppose coming from their time in Europe, the idea seems provincial.”
“I can’t say I have an opinion one way or the other,” Phillip said.
Papa chuckled. “Very diplomatic of you.”
“I’m quite for it,” Mama said. “Nothing good ever happened between the walls of a saloon.”
“How do you know?” Cymbeline asked.
“Have you been to one?” Fiona asked.
“I’ve never set foot in a place like that, no. However, some things a woman just knows,” Mama said. “Are you a drinking man, Phillip?”
“I’ve had a drink before,” Phillip said.
“Quinn, stop quizzing our new friend,” Papa said, laughing. “If he’d like a whiskey with me after dinner, then he shall have one.”
“I shouldn’t like to upset the mistress of the house,” Phillip said, smiling. “So whatever she advises is what I’ll do.”
“That’s wise,” Fiona said in her innocent way. “Mama only wants what’s best for us.”
“You’re very lucky to have a mama such as this one,” Phillip said.
“We know,” Cymbeline said. “Our other mother died.”
“And God sent Mama to us,” Fiona said.
“We don’t remember her,” Cymbeline said. “But we’ve seen a painting. Jo looks just like her.”
My stomach churned. I didn’t like it when the girls talked about how much I looked like our mother, even though it was true. She’d left us when we needed her. I couldn’t forgive her for that. We were better off with our Mama Quinn anyway. But still, thinking of the way Mother had died angered me. How could she leave us that way? She’d purposely walked into a frozen world where she knew she would die. Leaving Papa to raise five children on his own. Leaving me, at nine years old, to take her place, robbing me of my childhood. I knew the answer. She’d been unwell. Her sense of reality damaged. Yet there it remained. The anger like a red-hot knot in my stomach.
I looked up from my soup to find Papa watching me. I smiled at him to assure him all was well. He knew my thoughts, though, and where I went sometimes in my mind. We’d lived through all of it together. Only once in a long while would I see him drift away to that dark time. Theo, too. The others had escaped without the permanent damage we’d endured.
“You’re absolutely right, dear husband,” Mama was saying. “I’m only teasing you, Phillip. You may do as you please. Consider our home your home.”
Phillip’s brow wrinkled. “Speaking of which, do you think there’s a place in town I could rent? A room somewhere?”
“There’s the boardinghouse,” Papa said. “But there’s no reason you shouldn’t stay here. We have more than enough rooms.”
“We’d really like it if you’d stay here,” Mama said. “I promise not to ask too many questions at dinner.”
“I don’t mind,” Phillip said. “I’m only too happy to answer anything. The nuns used to tease me that I was incapable of lying, even when I’d done something wrong and fibbing would’ve saved a knuckle rapping.”
“What’s that?” Fiona asked.
“It’s when they took a ruler and smacked our knuckles,” Phillip said. “No one liked it, I can assure you.”
“Were you often in trouble?” I asked.
“Not often,” Phillip said. “I wanted nothing more than to please the kind women who gave their life to take care of children no one wanted. The only times I got in trouble were because of Walter. He was forever coming up with ideas about how to escape or steal food.”
“Walter? Really?” I couldn’t imagine him to be an unruly boy. During our time together, he’d been the perfect gentleman. Well-mannered and polite, deferring to my wishes. “In my experience, he was a rule-follower.”
“Was he?” Phillip asked me. “Perhaps you brought that out in him.”
“Boys can be rascals and grow up to be fine young men,” Mama said. “Flynn was always in scrapes when he was little.”
I glanced at Papa. His gaze was fixed on Phillip with obvious interest. I knew that expression. He was attempting to suss out what Phillip had meant when he said Walter had led him into trouble. A twinge of irritation pushed its way in. As much as I adored my father, his attitude toward Walter annoyed me. He hadn’t known him. Who was he to judge? He and Mama had fallen in love quickly. How was my experience different?
“How long were you and Walter together at the orphanage?” Papa asked.
“Only a few years,” Phillip said. “When we were twelve, one of his attempts to run away was successful. The next time I saw him was in the army.”
“Why did he want to run away?” Mama asked.
“I don’t know,” Phillip said. “The nuns were good to us. It wasn’t as if we had anywhere to go.”
“Isn’t it strange how you ended up together in the army?” Mama asked.
“Yes ma’am, it is. I could hardly believe my eyes.” Phillip set aside his spoon as our maid, Lila, brought up the main course—roast beef with carrots and potatoes. She took the platter to Mama first and then to me. The aroma of rosemary and onion wafted up from the platter as she scooped a small portion onto my plate.
“Thank you, Lila, this smells delicious,” Mama said.
Phillip’s face lit up when it was his turn to be served. “I’ve never eaten as good as I have today, and I’ve only been here six hours.” When everyone had their portion, it amused me to see the way Phillip dug into his food. I liked his humility and easy way with my sisters and his politeness to my parents. This was a good man. Coming here would be good for him. Everyone needed community and a sense of belonging.
He needed some good luck after everything he’d been through. My letters had brought him here. Something good had come from my writing. This brought me a sense of relief. Walter could not come back to me. But at least I’d made a difference in a man’s life that truly needed some luck.
Four days had passed since Phillip’s arrival. I hadn’t seen him as much as expected. He’d spent most of his days with Harley in the barn and shed, learning how he could be of service. I was busy at the library and had only seen him during dinners, but already it felt as if he’d always been with us. He spoke enthusiastically about the animals and all that he’d learned from Harley. On the way upstairs one night, he confessed to being physically exhausted at night and falling fast asleep.