The Kaleidoscope

By Jacqueline Wright

How can you deal with a situation that keeps changing like a kaleidoscope?
Lilly never wanted to be involved in hiding prohibition stills, but she finds herself at the heart of the deception when her husband, William, the county sheriff and a WWI veteran, is accused of taking bribes to look the other way. Lilly finds it hard to argue with him when he tells her that veterans should be able to have a drink to forget the horrors of the war. But it is against the law and he is the sheriff!
The district attorney, also being paid off to hide the stills, leads a raid with several agents because of dissatisfaction with his portion of the payoff. After the DA is exonerated of his involvement, he is murdered in his home, and fingers automatically point to William. Lilly is thrown into a boiling caldron of accusations, doubts, and fear as she fights to keep her husband from going to jail.
Can Lilly make it through this turmoil as she tries to shield her children, maintain her sanity, and keep food on the table?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacqueline Wright
• Release date: Jan 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781949085181

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Bedford, Wisconsin

Population 2,824

1922

A drop of blood oozed from the corner of her sister’s mouth. Lily pressed a hankie against it. After raising her head from the pillow, Ann’s body shuddered with a hacking cough. Lily swallowed; speaking was impossible.

The pillow was Ann’s refuge. She sank back on it, taking quick breaths. Never a big woman, now her whole body seemed almost as flat as the paper dolls Lily once played with. Slumping against the back of the big rocker by Ann’s bed, Lily closed her eyes as if she could shut out the pain of her sister’s illness.

Who’s this Sam Williams you wrote me about? Ann asked.

The question startled Lily. She sat up; a flush crept into her cheeks.

Not once had she thought of Sam since her brother Henry had stopped at the office this afternoon and said he’d brought their sister home sicker than when she went into the sanitarium.

Maybe Sam will call tonight, although he hadn’t said so. Sometimes he says he’ll call and he doesn’t. Father would say, Forget him. What good is a man who can’t keep his word? But what if someone is just a little forgetful? You have to make allowances.

Lily tucked a strand of her wavy hair behind her ear. I work for his father. One day Sam stopped in the office and I met him. He’s a war hero.

A war hero?

He was sixteen and lied about his age to join the army. The first volunteer in Sterling County after Wilson declared war, fought in every big battle in the war and came home with a disability. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. Quite a speech. It sounded like she’d memorized something from a book.

What’s his disability? Ann grasped the hankie from the bedside table, knocking over the small kaleidoscope standing there. She coughed into the hankie.

I’m not sure. He doesn’t talk about the war, but my friend Agnes has gone out with his brother, and she told me Sam’s problem has something to do with his heart and nerves.

Lily set the kaleidoscope their grandma had given Ann upright on the table again. Lily would like to know more about Sam’s disability, but it wouldn’t do any good to ask him. He always changed the subject.

Ann cleared her throat. Are you sure you can trust third hand information?

From Agnes, yes.

The neighbor’s front door banged. Here Button, here kitty, kitty. If the cat was anywhere on the block, she could hear Mrs. Crowley and so could everyone else. The Gringers, around the corner, fed Button scraps so she always headed there. Everyone watched out for the neighborhood’s pets, children and each other; sometimes, Lily felt, there was too much watching.

She frowned. Her sister should be in her own home caring for her family, out riding her little mare through the woods. Lily bit down on her lip; the tiny pain blocked other memories.

Have you gone out with him? Ann asked.

Yes, we’ve gone driving. We’ve been to the movies and eaten at Arnie’s restaurant. Mother and Father don’t like his having a car, but things are different since the war. Lily shrugged. I don’t know why he’s taking me out. All the girls like him.

She looked down at her right ankle where her foot had been almost cut off in a train accident when she was eleven. Yes, the injury has healed but my foot, instead of being flat when I stand or walk, slants slightly to the right. Her eyebrows came together in a scowl. No high heeled shoes. No graceful dancing. To be honest, lack of rhythm affects my dancing too. She sighed. Shouldn’t complain. My foot wasn’t amputated like the train doctor recommended. Most people don’t notice the ankle scar. But…being in a wheelchair for a year, wearing a leg cast, not wanting to talk to people about it, even if it happened eleven years ago, it still hurts inside.

Ann grasped Lily’s hand and squeezed it. You’re so pretty, Lily. Lots of fellows will want to take you out. Don’t get too serious too soon like… A cough interrupted her.

Lily shut her eyes. Would the coughing ever stop?

Ann reached for the small cup on the porch ledge where the screens joined the three-foot high wooden boards. After spitting into the cup, she wiped her lips with a hankie and sank back against her pillows, her red hair a touch of color between the white pillowcase and her white face.

Pressing her fingertips against the tension in the back of her neck, Lily glanced around the screened porch that extended across the entire front of the house. The wooden blinds could be rolled down over the screens, making the porch private but never too lonely because of the all the neighborhood sounds.

Did the doctor say you have to be out here in the fresh air? She folded her arms across her chest and rubbed them as if the warm May air felt chilly. To be truthful the chill came from inside.

He did. I don’t mind. Did you know Betty’s staying here too? I hope she won’t be too much for Mother. She’s a good little girl, but stubborn.

Lily nibbled at her bottom lip. Betty, my wonderful little niece; she will have to sleep in the small bedroom upstairs by herself. The last time she slept with Lily, Betty kicked in her sleep and didn’t get out of bed to use the pot. She climbed up on Lily to pee.

I’ll help with Betty. It’s no problem. As long as we all stay alert.

The wheezing in Ann’s breathing reminded Lily of someone having an asthma attack. Would you like another pillow? I hear you wheezing.

No, I have two. This phlegm makes me wheeze.

How about some lemonade? Mother says drink a lot if you have phlegm.

How about taking a ride? a man’s voice asked from outside the screen door.

Lily turned toward the voice. Sam…he sneaks around like Button. She touched her hair. She’d just gotten home from work, her hair oily and messy. What are you doing here? What a stupid thing to say, she thought.

Running some errands in town. Came by to see if you’d like to go for a ride?

Her cheeks grew warm. I can’t. My sister came home today. This is the first I’ve seen her. She rubbed her sweaty hands on her skirt.

He balanced on the top step, the palm of one hand against the screen.

Who is it? Ann asked.

Come in, Lily said. You can meet my sister, Ann. Lily pushed the screen door open. I told you about her being in the sanitarium. She’s come home to get well. Handsome, brown shirt matching his eyes, tan derby down over one eye, tan trousers, brown oxfords. How strange no laces in his shoes.

Ann, this is Sam Williams. His father is an insurance agent for Woodmann. I’m his father’s secretary.

Ann struggled to a sitting position, straightening the covers over her lap. I’m happy to meet you. Don’t come too close; I don’t want you to catch anything.

Ignoring her advice, he walked to the side of the bed and removed his derby. Lily’s mentioned you several times. Weren’t you in the state sanitarium outside of Milwaukee?

Yes…Yes, I was. I wanted to come home. Ann sank back on her pillows. She looked so fragile, especially in contrast to the aura of energy always surrounding Sam.

Hey, you’ve got a kaleidoscope. I used to have one when I was a kid. Picking up the kaleidoscope, he held it to his eye and turned the tube. There’s a beauty. Nothing stays the same, does it?

It was my grandmother’s, Ann said.

He put the tube on the table. A family heirloom. Glancing at Lily and then Ann, he said, Sisters? How come you’re a redhead and Lily’s a brunette?

She looks like our father’s family, Lily said. I look like our mother’s.

Sam turned toward Lily, twirling his derby on one finger. How about tomorrow? Could you go for a ride after lunch?

Lily hesitated. Ann raised herself on one arm. Please go. It’s Saturday, your day off.

Her sister’s wheezing seemed louder, and Lily was afraid Ann might start coughing with all the effort she was making.

Yes, I’ll go. About two. Okay? Lily said.

Great, I’ll see you tomorrow. Glad I met you, Ann. Get well. He closed the screen door, not letting it slam.

Lily watched him leave. He walked with the grace of an athlete, always seemed to have something he was thinking about. She turned toward Ann’s bed. I don’t really want to go. You just got home.

Ann raised her hand, palm toward Lily, as if to stop further discussion. We’ll have lots of time together.

I hope so, Lily thought.

You go, Ann said. I’ll be napping and Mother’s here, but be careful, Lily. He may be too charming.

Mr. Crowley’s Model-T backfired as he cranked it. Lily froze as she tiptoed from the porch. Why now? Ann is asleep at last. Lily clenched her fists. This noisy neighborhood. The thin shape on the bed did not awaken.

In the kitchen fresh bread and iced cinnamon rolls shared the oval table. Lily sniffed the delicious aroma and touched the frosting with her fingertip. Her tongue flicked over the icing spot on her finger. Yummy. No wonder I can’t be thin like Agnes. Her mother is a seamstress. Baking tins were heaped in the sink. Lily decided to wash them. How could they get Ann well?

She glanced through the window above the sink. Betty and her friend Myra Gringers held hands as they sat in separate swings and swung in coordination. Beyond the swings, apple trees overflowed with blossoms. Their fragrance mingled with the breeze, drifting through the open window. A barking cough came from the porch. Spring, Lily’s favorite season. Nothing holds the promise of new beginnings like a crisp spring day with baby animals and tiny plants poking through the soil.

Some people do recover from tuberculosis. We’ll give Ann the best care and have faith. Please God, make her well.

Jessie, Lily’s mother, looked out of the pantry, holding an apple pie, sprinkling a little sugar on the top crust. Lily inhaled the fragrance of cinnamon and sugar. This must be the last of the apples that we dried last fall.

Is Ann sleeping? Jessie asked.

I think so. Why does the doctor want her out on the porch? Does she have to stay there all the time?

Yes, she does. Jessie took a second apple pie from the pantry counter, went to the stove and slipped the pies in the oven. Apple pie was Ann’s favorite. If anyone can help Ann have a good appetite and gain weight, Mother can.

There’s not a lot we can do to treat tuberculosis, Lily. Doc Murphy says bed rest and outside air. TB’s contagious. It’s better for everyone to have Ann on the front porch.

Why did she leave the sanitarium?

She went home to take care of her children. She didn’t trust Eddie or Mrs. Murdock, the woman he hired to take care of them.

Lily nodded. Ann was smart not to trust them. The only time Ann had used bad judgement was when she married Eddie. Good looks aren’t enough to make a good husband.

Jessie brushed at a spot on her apron. When she got home, the children were alone. They helped her pump water and lug it in the house. She gave all of them a bath. Someone should have been taking care of her.

Where was Mrs. Murdock?

Jessie shrugged. She came back a few hours after Ann got home. Ann got rid of her. Two days, Ann and the children were there by themselves.

Two days! Lily shook her head. What a creep Eddie is as a husband and father.

Henry stopped over there around supper time yesterday. The children were trying to get supper. Eddie showed up late last night.

Lily knew her sister wouldn’t have gone to the sanitarium except Henry, their brother, lived within five miles of Ann’s home and had said he would check on the children. Everyone knew Eddie wasn’t reliable.

Jessie, who could do a twelve-hour wash day, put on an exceptional meal and still go to a church service in the evening, sank into a chair, looking tired enough for bed.

Lily circled the table and knelt by her mother. She pressed her head against her mother’s chest. I hate him. It’s his fault she’s sick. Lily raised her head and doubled up her fist. She hit it against the palm of her other hand. If I was a man, I’d wring his neck.

Jessie sighed. He didn’t give her the tuberculosis, but he hasn’t taken good care of her. Ann made some poor decisions too.

Yes, like marrying him. Lily sat back on her legs, her hands against the coarse material of Jessie’s apron.

Henry got everything ready last night. They left at six this morning and got here at eleven.

Ann’s face had reminded Lily of white railroad chalk. She seemed too weak to carry on a conversation. One day, a few years ago, Ann had been galloping on her chestnut mare. The mare’s tail streamed out behind her. Ann’s loose hair flowed like a banner. As they dashed by, Ann stood up in her stirrups, a circus performer. Yippee, she yelled. And now look at Ann…. The ride from Milwaukee to Bedford, bouncing around in Henry’s Model-T had been ghastly. How was Ann when they got here?

Exhausted, she was on bed rest at the sanitarium.

Lily rose from a kneeling position and sat on a chair. Everything sounds so hopeless.

Your father came home for lunch. He helped me get Ann settled on the porch, got Betty’s lunch and ate with her. Doc Murphy was here this afternoon. Jessie put her fingers on the edge of the kitchen table and rubbed them on the oilcloth.

Lily sighed. Only in a crisis does Mother send for the doctor. She has as many home remedies as an Indian medicine man.

Henry stopped for a minute at the office on his way home. He said Ann was here and very sick. He wanted to be sure I came right home after work. I was on the phone. It was hard to talk.

Jessie nodded. I thought he’d stop.

Where was Eddie the day Ann went home from the sanitarium?

Ann told me he’d gone to see her earlier that day. After he left, she got out of bed and watched him from the window. He had some woman in his buggy, kissed her when he got in, then drove away. Ann didn’t know who she was.

Lily stared at her mother. Up to his dirty tricks. How could he? Too bad he can’t be dropped into a deep hole a hundred miles from here and the dirt shoveled in after him. She remembered the surprise of his wet kiss in the pantry of his house when she’d been visiting. Lily regretted not kicking him harder in the shin.

She reached across the table, grasped her mother’s hand and held it. How do you think Ann is?

Jessie squeezed Lily’s hand. I…I think she’s dying. Lily gasped and bounded from her chair. It banged over on its back. Her hands shook as she straightened the chair. Sick, weighing less than a hundred pounds, coughing up blood, but not dying.

In the darkness, Lily crept down the stairs to the dining room, remembering to step over the squeaky step, third down from the top of the stairs. She didn’t want to wake her parents in their bedroom off the living room. Feeling her way along the wall, past the colonnades and the archway into the living room, she inched her way toward the porch. Her bare feet worked their way over the threshold to the lower porch floor. She took four steps before hitting her shin on the rocker. Ouch.

Shh It was Frank, her father.

She rubbed her shin. Why are you out here?

She coughed so much, I got her some water. Her breathing wasn’t good. I was afraid…but she’s asleep now. Go get some rest. I’ll sit up awhile yet.

Lily put her hand on his arm. She’s going to get better.

Her father covered her hand with his. Leave it up to the boss, Lily. I can’t decide what will happen and neither can you.

I’m going to do everything I can.

Of course, we all are, but some decisions we can’t make. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Good night. See you in the morning.

Her lips touched the top of his bald head.

She knew her father had gone many times to rescue Ann and the children from problems Eddie was creating. The last time had been three years ago. Lily had heard her father tell her mother, I told her not again, Jessie. Ann stays away from him, or if she goes back this time, she stays there. Ann did go back and now might never go anywhere again. Lily slipped out of the back porch and back to her room.

Sitting on the end of her bed, she stared at the picture of Christ hanging between the two windows overlooking the porch. He was holding a lamb in his arms, as she wanted him to hold Ann. She covered her face with her hands and rocked back and forth. The pain inside felt like some caged creature. She couldn’t turn it loose, couldn’t live with it. Her eyes burned. She was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. Being determined and not sleeping seemed connected to keeping Ann alive. She slipped to her knees on the hard floor beside her bed. Do whatever you have to do, Jesus, but make her live.

CHAPTER TWO

Two o’clock and no Sam. He was always late. Today she did not have the patience to sit on the porch steps and wait but paced back and forth on the brick walk in front of the house.

She hoped the ride and Sam’s companionship would help her be less anxious about Ann’s illness, if only for a little while.

When Sam arrived at two-fifteen, she hurried into the automobile, not wanting him to turn it off and then have to crank it. The cranking might awaken Ann.

His Tin Lizzie bounced along Highway 12. He motioned toward County J when they saw their special road joining the highway. A nod of agreement from Lily sent the auto bumping up J. What her parents didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. She and Sam never did anything but a little petting. She moistened her bottom lip with her tongue. So far.

A trail wound back from J to a small open space on the riverbank. Lizzie could just pass through the trees and brush. Sam was out of the auto, around to her side and got a blanket from the second seat before she had her door open. What her family told her was true. She had one speed, slow. He took her hand as she started to get out of the car.

I thought I saw some poison ivy here last week when I was fishing.

Poison ivy. She shrank back into the Ford. I’m not getting out.

No, it wasn’t poison ivy when I checked it out. I saw three leaves and you know the old saying, ‘Leaflets three let it be’ but it wasn’t poison ivy. Come on. Trust me. There’re violets here. I’ll pick you some.

Lily stepped from the auto and followed Sam to the riverbank where he spread out an old blanket for them to sit on. A few blades of grass poked through a little hole in the blanket near Lily’s hand. She brushed her hand over them enjoying the tickly feeling. He picked her a small bouquet of violets, reaching to the base of the stem before picking the flower. His big fingers were gentle with each delicate stem.

Would you rather have roses? he asked.

She would rather have roses, red ones. They were her favorite flower, but of course she wouldn’t say so. She kept her eyes down, watching the violets in his hand, thinking how his gentle fingers would feel on her skin. No, Mother says wild flowers come from God’s garden.

She’s right. The backwaters barely moved below their bank. Some tall weeds drooped over the edge of the land toward the river. As darning needles hovered and darted over the water’s surface, Lily heard the river community: a splash, frogs croaking, the hum of insects. The smell of the river’s life and decay floated about them with the slight breeze.

Sam shifted closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders. See the fish? He pointed to a widening circle on the surface of the water.

She nodded.

You’re quiet today, Lily. He took a cigarette from the package in his pocket and offered one to her, leaning against her as he did so. She could feel his warmth through her cotton dress.

No thanks. Usually she had one with him. She treasured the fancy packages of cigarettes he gave her, stuffed them under clothes in her dresser, and loved having one in the outhouse, hidden from her parents, especially if Agnes was over.

He began to smoke, his arm around her shoulder again. Is it your sister? Her illness? His smoke drifted out over the river, meshing with its odor. How bad is it?

My mother thinks Ann is dying. Lily sat up straighter. She’s not. She’s going to get well.

What does the doctor say?

He says she’s very sick. There are lots of bad signs. Tears threatened but she would not cry. She turned her face away from him and watched the leaves of a low hanging branch of a weeping willow as it trailed in the water. I shouldn’t have come for a ride. It’s not a good day.

Sam reached for her hand and rubbed it with his thumb.

Ann’s not going to die. I’m not going to lose her. She fumbled in her pocket for her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. The pitch of her voice rose. For God’s sake, she’s only twelve years older than I am.

He dropped her hand. What’s age got to do with it?

She was surprised at his abruptness. His face seemed distant.

Sam rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead. Talk about death and age. You can die at sixteen or any age. In war you live with death daily, hourly. Did you ever see pictures of the big guns used in the war? Bodies everywhere, pieces of bodies in trees. Sam clenched his fists, his knuckles white. The ground was soaked up with blood. If you didn’t have shoes and you had a cut on your foot, you got an infection. He started gripping her hand tightly, then dropped it and snuffed out his cigarette in the sand. He stood, his body rigid. I saw enough dead men to cover my father’s hundred-acre farm if the men were laid side by side. If someone’s going to die, they die. Not a damn thing you can do about it.

She knew he’d forgotten about Ann. Maybe even forgot about her. He’d never shared anything about the war before.

There were twelve of us in a trench. Don’t remember how far ahead of the company we were. No one else was alive in our hell except Germans.

What happened?

We kept shooting all night. Our men got there thirteen hours later.

Was everyone all right?

All right? He laughed. Not a pleasant sound. Nine dead. Two of us still firing.

The other one? What happened to him?

He shrugged. Casey went nuts; still is.

Folding her arms across her chest, she hugged them to herself. There is no comfort in these damp woods. She could think of nothing to say, heard an animal’s shriek a short distance away. Glancing at the river’s quiet backwaters, she noticed a widening circle on the water’s surface. A fish had come up to grab an insect. How could peaceful places become nightmares like a countryside thrown into war or my home with Ann so ill? We’re doing everything the doctor has told us to do. Maybe…I can’t make Ann better. Lily shuddered. Maybe I have to watch Ann die.

She watched Sam’s hand shake as he tried to light a cigarette. He needs help from someone. I can’t do anything except listen.

CHAPTER THREE

On Saturday, Sam invited Lily to go to Doyle’s dance hall. They’d been there before and she’d felt like Cinderella floating through magical space in Sam’s arms, she, who eleven years ago, had thought she’d have a gimpy leg forever. Now she danced in the arms of the most popular fellow in town.

Lily ran the palms of her hands from her waist down to the tops of her legs, enjoying the softness of her new dress. It wasn’t risqué like some of the girls were wearing. Everyone seemed to be trying new things: clothes, smoking, dancing and even drinking.

After closing her bedroom door to hide the chaos of getting ready for Sam, she placed each foot on a step with great care as she went down the steep stairs. It would be easy to slip down the stairs in her new shoes with leather soles. The shoes even had a little heel, the highest she could tolerate and still walk and dance. She loved the click sound each time she took a step, Oops. She’d started to hum a dance tune. If her folks knew she was going dancing, not to mention how she liked to do the Charleston, they’d think she was casting herself into hell.

Methodists like her parents didn’t think you should smoke, and drinking would be like exposing yourself to leprosy. People should be open to new ideas and I’m going to be, whether anyone likes it or not. Her new shoes tapped on the linoleum as she crossed the dining room.

On the porch the phonograph near Ann’s bed played a record of Schubert’s. Ann loved music, listened with eyes closed as if to shut out the rest of the world. Betty sprawled on the floor giggling over the comic page.

I forgot you were going out, Jessie said, as she looked up from her crocheting.

Ann opened her eyes, looking almost rested. Lily, come here. You’re beautiful. I love your dress and shoes.

Thank you. Lily twirled around. The white skirt flared about her long legs.

Mother, it’s not fair. Lily got three dimples. I didn’t even get one, Ann said.

Betty got up and went to stand by