The Legacy of Jane - Part One: If You Are Gone

Chapter Three

I sit down at the table, and look Ruby in the eye, "They're not home, yet. Dinah and I are going to go out today to find them."

Ruby's face fell, and started picking through her eggs and sausage with her fork. "When?" She asks.

"Dinah and I aren't going to school today, so Dinah can rest and we can look for them," I reply, "I would like for you to go to school, and maybe when you come home, mother and father will be here waiting."

"But I really want to help," Ruby sighs, looking down.

"I know," I say, "but you can help by going to school, and taking care of yourself, but you mustn't tell anyone about what is going on. I need you to be strong, okay?" 

I put my hand over Ruby's to comfort her, and I see her look back up and say, "Alright… I can try."

"Thank you," I answer, "now make sure to get ready so I can walk you to school in a bit."

I feel like such a hypocrite. I hardly care, though. We have no clue of what we are in for with this search, and what lies ahead of us. If we run into something horrible today, I couldn't bear putting Ruby through such trauma.

Dinah comes downstairs to eat breakfast, while Ruby is upstairs getting ready for school. I clean the kitchen, Dinah goes back upstairs to rest for a couple of hours, and Ruby comes downstairs with her school dress and pinafore, while holding her books. 

I could tell that Ruby took heed to my request that she takes care of herself, as she looks more put-together than usual. I must say that I feel proud of her already, since she's trying her hardest to keep herself together.

After I tell Dinah that I’m taking Ruby to school, I get on my hat and my wool shawl, seeing that it is a cold morning. I walk Ruby to school in Adamsdown, just as usual, only this time we walk in an awkward silence.

As we get to the schoolyard, where cheerful children run and play, the older ones calmly talking, I turn and look down to Ruby.

“Everything is going to be fine,” I try to say as optimistically as I can, “I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding, this will pass soon enough.”

“I know,” Ruby agrees, “I won’t say anything about it.”

“Thank you,” I smile, “have a good day, I’ll be here when school is over.”

I wave to Ruby as she runs over to her friends on the schoolground, and I turn around to go home.

***

I sit on the couch, with a book, after a long morning of cleaning the kitchen and trying to stay busy. Dinah comes downstairs, looking fatigued but better than she was before.

“Are you ready to go?” She asked, “We’ll go start at the dance hall and work our way from there.”

“Alright,” I agree. I put down my book, and get up from the couch toward the front door. Dinah and I get on our hats and shawls, and head out the door to the sidewalk. We walk down to mainstreet, where we are able to hail a carriage.

***

A few minutes later, we thanked the driver and got off the carriage to see a large building, with a big sign that read Grace of the Swan Ballroom. We approach the large red doors with brass trim, and take a deep breath as we open the door.

“You know, it’s good that we came in the morning,” Dinah whispered, “otherwise I’m not sure you would be allowed inside.”

I nod my head in silent agreement, as we enter a large and open room with cheerful but calm music playing. Being only morning, the place is nearly deserted. There are a few couples on the wooden dance floor, and one or two customers sitting at a bar. The band plays up on a stage in front of the dance floor. The rest were all just empty tables, with mother and father not in sight.

“The only employee I see is the bartender,” I mutter to Dinah, “perhaps we should start there.”

We approach the bartender, who is smoking a cigar that is somehow getting ash on his moustache. His balding head gleams in the dim light, and he looks rather grouchy, as if serving beverages is too much work for him.

“Excuse me sir,” Dinah says, “I was wondering if you could be so kind as to assist us.”

The guy looks up from cleaning a glass, looking bewildered. “Can I get you a drink?” He gruffs, “I’m sure that you are well aware that your daughter is not allowed to sit at the bar.”

“Oh, pardon me,” she exclaimed, turning pink, “this is my sister, Jane. I am Dinah Evans and I need assistance looking for Ann and John Evans. I understand that they were here last night.”

“Listen, lady,” he said impatiently, “I am no detective, and I can bet money that you aren’t either. Buy something, and maybe I can tell you what I know. If you pay up.”

Dinah stands tall, determined, yet poised at the same time. I could tell that this man is testing her patience. 

“It shouldn’t cost us anything to hear what happened to our parents” Dinah said sternly, “tell us what you know. We haven’t seen them since they left to come here last night. We haven’t got all day.”

The bartender stays silent, as if he’s waiting to see if Dinah will go even further. Finally, he speaks up, “The Evans?” he scoffs, “I can’t believe you want to find those Irish drunkards.”

“Would you like to tell me more?” Dinah asks impatiently.

As I watch this conversation go on, the less I like the bartender, and I never even liked him to begin with. He holds out his hand, expecting payment. Dinah rolls her eyes, knowing that we won’t change his mind.

“Alright. One cup of beer then,” Dinah slams a coin on the counter, “Now tell me."

The bartender laughs, clearly happy to see Dinah upset. He begins pouring the beverage, “oh yes, they were here last night. Drunk and wasted as hell, I tell ya'." 

"Our parents are no drunks," I pipe up, "they hardly ever drink."

"Well they were last night," he continued, "the bloke was drunk sitting here the whole time, while the lady was reasonably sober. They left at about eight o'clock after they got into a bit of a brawl."

"And how do you know all this?" I ask.

"I work double shifts at this joint," the man answers without looking up, "I was bored all night, so I spent the evening laughing at the drunk Irishman. It's that bad Irish blood I tell ya'."

Dinah and I ignore the insult, as hard as it is, we give our thanks, and walk away from the bar, with the beer Dinah ordered completely untouched.

We head out of the dance hall, and onto the busy street in silence. We get to a park about a block away and find a bench to sort out our thoughts about the whole mess. 

"There has got to be something that has been going on," I say, "mother and father never come home drunk. "

"That is not all that bothers me though," Dinah replies, "that obnoxious bartender told us that they got into a 'bit of a brawl.'" 

"And they left early," I finish.

There is silence again, and I can tell that we are both thinking the same thing. 

I feel that the odds of seeing my parents again are rapidly decreasing.