The Bootlegger's Daughter

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Timothy's House

I did my best to navigate and after a few minutes or so I found his house. It was in a somewhat rundown neighborhood. Not the worst one in the city, but certainly not the best. His house was an apartment one the second floor of the building. I hadn’t been in an apartment for years and I was somewhat nervous about going in. Nevertheless I did.

When I found his door I knocked and waited for Timothy to open it. When he did he had gotten rid of his jacket and hat. He let me in without saying a word. His apartment was small and with few things inside. Then again he is a bachelor who lives alone.

“You haven’t eaten anything yet, have you?” Timothy asked. I shake my head. “Take a seat. I’ll make you something.” I sat in a wooden chair at a small table. I watched Timothy cook potatoes and a bit of meat.

“So this is where you live?” I ask, trying and failing to make conversation.

“Yeah.” Timothy replied. There was an awkward pause because neither of us knew what to say. Timothy hardly ever talks so that’s not new for him. Once he finished cooking he came and sat next to me. “ You found the house alright?”

“Yeah. It only took a few minutes to convince her to let me come over. She invited me to dinner but some man, his name is Liam, wouldn’t let me come in.”

“Yeah that was expected.”

“Do we have a spy or something in their family?”

“No. Well, I don’t think so. No one ever really tells me anything.”

“Same with me.” I said with a smile.

“Did you learn anything from her?”

“Um… yeah. Liam said that her brother, his name is Sean, is out of town. It seems like Sean is the one who’s in charge. Liam is the head right now. Ruthie, the girl, didn’t tell me anything. I truly don’t think she knows anything. It doesn’t seem like the family tells her much.”

“The good thing is that we don’t need her information. We just need her to open a door.” There was a pause. I just ate while Timothy looked at me.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Promise you won’t tell my father.”

“I won’t.” I nod.

“I’ve met Ruthie before. It was an accident and purely coincidental. She doesn’t remember me so it’s not a big deal. But I feel bad. She doesn’t know anything; she doesn’t know the world. She’s too trusting. And I don’t want her to get hurt but I think she might. I’m still going to go back there but it’s hard.” I said. To this day I don’t know why I told him. Timothy is trustworthy, but I still don’t know why I did it.

I watched him closely. He looked shocked for a second then hid his emotions. He just looked back at me. I’m fairly certain that Timothy was thinking of what to do or say. I didn’t know what to do; he didn’t know what to do. What does one do when they want to help the family that they’re very loyal to but are scared to hurt someone else? Please don’t think ill of me. What would you do if you were me?

“How did you meet her?” Timothy asked. It makes me laugh when I think about his question. I said all that but all he wants to know is how we met.

“On that same beach. The day after my grandfather was murdered. She was with a little boy, her nephew Finnegan.”

“You met a member of the family that killed your grandfather the day after he died?” Timothy asked, almost not believing me. I must admit that it was the most coincidental thing that’s probably ever happened to me.

“Yes. But please don’t tell Sweetie!” I begged.

“You know I won’t. There’s no need to worry, Miss Sweet.” Timothy said. I looked down at my hands when he said my name. Timothy’s never consistent about whether or not he calls me Lucy or Miss Sweet. It bothers me when he says Miss Sweet but it also doesn’t feel right when he says Lucy because he rarely ever calls me that.

“Do you know anything about John?” I asked in a soft voice.

“Henry didn’t say much, just a little bit while we were waiting for you. He told me what happened that morning and said that John went home. He went to check on him around noon. He’s in pain and has gotten sick again. Apparently Emma called the doctor and he is making a house call tomorrow.” Timothy said.

We talked a bit more. None of it was important. I ate my dinner and let time pass. Soon the sun set and it was dark outside, save for the lights coming from windows of buildings. When it was time for me to leave Timothy walked me to the door.

“You think you can do this?” He asked.

“Yes. I know which window is her’s and where the house is. She already likes me so this should be fairly easy.” I said.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean are you sure you can do this because you’ve already met her and you said that she doesn’t understand things.” It took me a second to answer. I didn’t know what to say. I could do it and I did do it. But it killed my conscience. Then again when you’re the daughter of a bootlegger your conscience is already a bit messed up.

“I can do this.” I told Timothy confidently. He just shrugged and went back inside. I was left alone in the night.

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