Prohibition

Chapter 28

True to his word, Scott was waiting outside Evelyn's house the next morning. "How did you sleep?" he asked as Evelyn shut the door behind her and walked down the steps to join him.

"Not well," Evelyn admitted, stifling a yawn. "You?"

"Not well either." Scott smiled sympathetically. "Are you sure you feel up to today?"

"I'll be alright," Evelyn replied. "I had some coffee before I left. Hopefully, it will keep awake."

"Or I could pinch you," Scott teased. "I'm joking!" he laughed as Evelyn shot him a look. "I would never pinch a lady."

For a few minutes, they walked in silence. Then Scott spoke. "Do you...do you often sleep badly?"

"No..." Evelyn said slowly, startled by his question. "Do you?"

"Yes." Scott's words were barely audible. "But I've seen things I hope you'll never have to see—things that making sleeping hard."

"Such as?" Evelyn's curiosity, struggling against the sorrow and apathy that numbed her senses, was aroused.

Scott looked down at her, his eyes dark with emotion. "Such as my mother lying dead on the floor of our home," he answered, almost angrily. "Such as my best friend screaming and clawing his eyes while poison gas slowly blinded him. Such as innocent men gunned down in cold blood."

"Oh." Evelyn was at a loss for words. What sort of horrible, twisted life had Scott led? He was clearly damaged by the war—as was every man who had fought in it—but his mother? What of her? Her own problems, colossal as they had seemed the night before, paled in comparison. "Scott, I'm so sorry," she whispered, touching his arm. "I didn't know..."

"It's alright." Scott forced a smile. "I didn't bring this up just so you would pity me," he continued, turning to face Evelyn. "I brought it up because I need you to know something."

"Yes?"

"These people you want to help—they're like me. Most of them are broken, in more ways than you can count. And, while I truly applaud you for what you're trying to do, I worry that you're gonna be disappointed. These people may not react the way you want them to. They may refuse your help. They may try to take advantage of you. What you thought you could fix, you may realize is too broken to ever be repaired. Are you ready for that?"

"Yes." Evelyn met Scott's intense gaze squarely. "I am."

"Are you sure?" Scott pressed. He wetted his lips. "If you don't mind me asking, what change are you hoping to bring about?"

"I..." Evelyn's voice trailed into silence as she considered Scott's question. What change was she hoping to bring about? God, what was she even doing? "I don't know," she said finally. "All I know is this: my father grew up dirt poor. The things he had to do to get where he is today, the choices and sacrifices he had to make, are unimaginable. He gave up his entire family, for god's sake, in order to have a better life—not just for him, but for me as well. I don't want others—others like him and like you—to go through that pain. Nobody should have to chose between their family and a better life; they should be able to have both. I just want to help that happen, however I can."

"Ah, Miss Collins, you are idealistic." Scott smiled sadly. "But I understand." His face darkened. "Your father...he gave up a lot, didn't he?"

"Yes." The bitterness in Scott's voice shocked Evelyn. "Not more than you've given up though, I'm sure."

"No, I'm sure he's sacrificed more." Scott's tone was flat now. Shaking his head, he continued in a much lighter tone, "Miss Collins, you have a heart of gold. Anything I can do to help you, I will. Just tell me what you need, and it's done."

"Thank you." Tears prickled at the corner of Evelyn's eyes as she smiled up at Scott. "You know, you're the first person who has actually listened to me talk about this. Raymond..." she swallowed hard, his name bitter on her tongue. "Well, he just wanted to kiss me. And Dad cut me off before I even started. This whole idea was because of him, but he was too tired to even listen!" She hadn't realized until now how much Mr. Collins had truly hurt her. But, as the words left her mouth, she knew they were the truth. Her own father, the one person she had thought she could rely on, had let her down. Because he had been too tired and absorbed in his own problems to listen to her for even five minutes, here she was opening up to an absolute stranger!

"Miss Collins—" Scott began, his eyes soft.

"Please," she interrupted. "Call me Evelyn." After sharing her emotions so freely with Scott, him calling her 'Miss Collins' just didn't seem right anymore.

"Evelyn," Scott tried again, "I'm so sorry." Looking down at his hands, he said lowly, "My father was never a part of my life. He left my mother before I was born, and never came back. If there was anything worse than seeing what his absence did to her, it was knowing he never wanted me...never cared about me..." his voice trailed off. "I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice raw and pained. "I don't know what I was getting at. I just...I don't know."

But Evelyn knew, though she could not put it into words. She knew, and her heart swelled with gratitude. Almost simultaneously, she and Scott moved forward, then fell into each other's arms. In that moment, Evelyn felt a strange, tentative thread of kinship winding through her, connecting her to Scott. His heartbeat, strong and steady against her ear, stirred up memories long since suppressed—memories of her mother holding her, her heartbeat strong and comforting next to Evelyn's tiny ear, memories of home and a time when she had felt loved. Evelyn sighed, fisting her fingers into Scott's coat and pulling him more tightly against her. She could feel Scott's fingers tightening around her coat, in response, as he held her so tightly, his chin bit into her shoulder.

Finally, reluctantly, he released her. It was then that Evelyn noticed his cheeks were wet with tears. Flushing, Scott brushed them away. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I..." Evidently at a loss for words, he just shook his head.

Evelyn smiled. "I know." Looking up at Scott, she felt a flicker of something in her chest—something that felt strangely like hope. Evelyn's smile widened, her eyes growing brighter. Her troubles had certainly not diminished, not by a long shot, but maybe—just maybe—she wasn't quite as alone as she had thought.