Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
EVELYN
The East Bay of San Francisco appears through the train window like a dream. Fog coated hills and skyscrapers. It should feel like a triumph. The final destination of my grand escape.
But all I feel is disappointment. I’m not ready to be here yet. Not because I’m not sure what I’m going to do. It’s because of Jake. Because I’m not ready to bid him goodbye. Foolish, really. He’s probably counting the minutes till he’s rid of me.
We’re pulling into the station and Jake is unusually quiet beside me, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh, his eyes flicking to the corridor window more than once. Watching. Waiting.
For what, I don’t know. Is he worried about the Prohibition Agents? Or eager to be rid of me?
The man in the overcoat hasn’t been seen again. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.
Lang appears with a quiet knock. “Train stops in ten. If you want to disappear in the crowd, best be near the front exit.”
Jake nods and hands him cash. “You’ve been tops, Lang.”
Lang tips his hat. “Hope it works out for you two.”
I correct him. “Oh, we’re not together—”
But Lang has already left and Jake is shutting the door.
I start packing up the few things I’ve accumulated.
“You could stay on the train,” he says suddenly.
I pause. “To Los Angeles?”
“You don’t know anyone in San Francisco.” He shrugs casually. “You don’t have a job lined up. Or a plan.”
“I have ideas.”
“Like being a governess with no references?”
I raise a brow, surprised by the terseness of his tone. “That sounds awfully close to caring, Mr. Callahan.”
He leans against the wall, arms folded. “Just pointing out you’re ill-equipped for post-wedding escape survival.”
I turn back to my purse and latch it shut. “You could come with me.” I said it, knowing it would shut him up. But when it works, I feel a sharp pain in my chest.
“That’s not in the plan either,” he finally says. “I’ve got a job to finish.”
A job that I can’t come along on.
Before I can say anything, the brakes screech and the train stops. The end of the line.
We gather our things. We don’t speak.
When we step off the train, the crowd is thick and porters shout over the noise. I see Fedora Man moving quickly from the platform toward the station. I let out a breath of relief and try to hold onto the feeling of true freedom.
A hand wraps around my arm before I can walk away.
“Good luck, wife…Evelyn Not-Smith,” Jake says.
“Whitmore.” It’s silly to want him to know who I really am. Especially since I don’t feel like a Whitmore. I feel like a Taylor…or a Callahan.
“Good luck, Ms. Whitmore.”
“You too, Mr. Callahan.”
For a moment, we stand like dunces looking at each other. I’m bumped from behind and it propels me into motion. With one final glance at Jake, I turn my attention to my future.
I leave the platform and enter the station.
My destination is a hotel I learned about from a business associate of my father’s who travelled to California last year.
Just to make sure there is a room, I find a public pay phone, dropping in two pennies to call the reservation desk.
Luckily there is room. When the receptionist asks my name, I give him Mrs. Taylor.
I tell myself it’s so that my father can’t track me down.
Once the reservation is made, I head out toward the street to hail a taxi.
“Evelyn Whitmore?”
I turn to the sound of my name to find a stalky, dour looking man approach me.
Immediately, I realize my mistake. I should have ignored him. Before I know it, he reaches out to take my arm, but I step out of his way. “I’m not—"
“I’m Harold Dalton, a PI in San Francisco. I’ve been hired by your parents to escort you home. They’re beside themselves.”
“I’ll write them when I’m settled.” I step back, my eyes darting around for help.
He finally gets a grip on me and starts dragging me toward the platform presumably to board another train back to Chicago. “You’ll be settled once you’re Mrs. Charles Preston.”
I tug to free my arm, but his grip is strong. My heart sinks as I realize I won’t be able to escape him. If I scream will anyone help me? How deep does my father’s contacts in San Francisco go?
“There’s only one problem.” A different hand takes my other arm and pulls me to a stop.
I follow arm of the hand that’s ahold of me up to find Jake.
“She’s already married.”
My heart does a loopty-loo in my chest. “Jake.”
Harold’s mouth opens and closes. “That’s impossible.”
I nod, grabbing onto this moment like a life preserver. I’m not na?ve enough to think Jake is here because like me, he doesn’t want this to end. He’s protecting me, just like he did on the train.
“I’m Mrs. Taylor now.”
“So back off, buddy.” Jake steps closer to Mr. Dalton, malice in his eyes. It’s the first time I’ve seen anything that looks dangerous about Jake. It should probably scare me, but instead, it draws me to him even more.
After a tense moment, Mr. Dalton glares. “You’ll regret this, Ms. Whitmore.”
“Maybe. But at least it’ll be my mistake.”
Mr. Dalton looks torn. I understand. My father won’t be happy that he’s failed in his mission.
“Tell my parents I love them but I’m living my own life.
Tell them I’m happy.” My happiness hasn’t ever been their priority, but perhaps they’ll let this go.
After all, it will be a big scene if they drag me home.
Wait until they learn I shared a sleeper car with a man.
A man who is a bootlegger. A man I’ve just told Harold I’ve married.
“Your father will—”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” Jake says. “If it were, I’d be asking for a dowery. Lucky for the Whitmores, I want Evie for herself. You tell them that too.”
If only that were true.
“This isn’t over,” Mr. Dalton warns.
“We’ll invite the in-laws over once we’re settled,” Jake says giving Mr. Dalton a shove.
Mr. Dalton scurries off, giving a worried glance at us over his shoulder.
I let out a breath. “Thank you. Like I said, you’re good at acting.”
He stares at me with an expression I can’t decipher. “I’m not acting.”
My heart stalls in my chest. “What?”
“Is that really what you want? Going back to being strangers?”
I feel a well of hope in my chest, but I’m not sure I understand what he’s saying, so I don’t trust it. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“No.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “What I wanted was to keep my head down, do the job, and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“And now?”
“Now I want to know where you're staying.”
I exhale on a laugh, relieved, and a little disbelieving. “Jake.”
“Wife.”
My heart is so full it’s about to burst from my chest. “You realize we barely know each other.”
“We shared a room. Lied to the federal government. And you’ve seen me without a shirt. I think that counts.”
I study him, feeling like I’m on the edge of a precipice. The question is, can I fly or will I fall? “I’m staying at the Fairmont.”
“Fancy.”
I smirk. “They think I’m Mrs. Taylor.”
He grins. “Then I suppose I should check in too.”
I arch one brow. “On what grounds?”
He steps in close. “Marital privilege.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling, happier than I’ve ever been. “You’re impossible.”
“Only until the honeymoon’s over.”
“I thought it already was.”
He leans in, just enough. “Not yet, Mrs. Taylor.” He pulls me in tight. “Let’s get married.”
“I thought we already are.”
“I mean a real one. Nothing fancy unless you want that.” Now he looks nervous. “Or City Hall. Quick like. Get it done. Start our new lives. What do you say, Evie…wife?”
I think I must be dreaming. If I am, I don’t want to wake up. “I say it’s the best offer I’ve ever had.”
Then he kisses me.
And this time, there’s nothing pretend about it.