“I love you, Honoree.” He kissed her eyes, her throat, and her mouth—again. “No matter how long it takes, I will make this up to you.”
* * *
Ezekiel and Jeremiah loaded the pickup truck first thing in the morning. But when Honoree and Bessie climbed into the cabin, Jeremiah wasn’t there.
“Where is he?” Bessie asked.
Ezekiel waved off her question with a shrug, but the muscle clicking in his jaw told Honoree something was off.
“Don’t worry about Jeremiah,” Honoree said to Bessie, wanting to calm her fears. “He’ll show up before we board the train. He wouldn’t miss saying goodbye.”
The drive to Union Station was slow and cautious. The windshield wipers jerked back and forth, doing little to rid the glass of the blinding white powder. Ezekiel might do better without the wipers, Honoree thought. Then as if reading her mind, he turned them off.
Cranking down the driver’s window, he swatted the snow from the glass with his gloved hand and the sleeve of his overcoat.
“Don’t look so worried. We’ll get there on time. You won’t miss the train, Honoree. I won’t let that happen. I promise.”
She winced because he didn’t understand. “I don’t want to leave. I am desperate to stay. The city is home. I grew up here.” Unshed tears roughened her voice. “I know I can make New York home, too. I just wish all the things that happened had happened to someone other than me.”
“I deeply wish the same thing,” Ezekiel said. “But you leaving Chicago is what has to happen now.”
The engine sputtered, and Ezekiel pushed down on the gas pedal, his fist fighting the gearshift. When the engine revved, he smiled at her. “That is if we don’t get stuck in the snow.”
He drove west and then north, avoiding State Street and Halsted. Too many people on those streets might recognize him and his automobile, and one could alert Archie or Gallo’s men that he was on the move.
The ordinarily short ride, even in bad weather, ended up taking an hour. Ezekiel parked on a side street several blocks from the train station’s main entrance. “It’ll be better to leave the car here and blend in with the other travelers on the sidewalk.”
Honoree glanced at the bags and the large box in the trunk. How would they carry everything in one trip without Ezekiel’s brother?
“I thought you said Jeremiah would be here.” Bessie hugged her coat around her belly.
Honoree had a decision to make. There was too much to carry and too much to leave behind. But she had so few possessions left, it felt like giving up parts of her body. “We should leave the sewing machine in the car,” she said. “You can bring it when you meet us in Harlem.”
“We can take it with us now,” Ezekiel said. “I’ll carry it.”
The three of them hoisted shopping bags onto their shoulders and loaded their arms. Then they hiked to the station.
The new Union Station had a shiny polished look and towering doors, and vaulted ceilings, so high birds nested at the top of the iron columns. They walked as quickly as their burdens allowed, through the vast rotunda toward the waiting room for colored passengers.
“We’re here an hour early, aren’t we?” Bessie’s head tilted upward. “Do they have someplace for coloreds to eat?”
“What about the food you stuffed into your bag?” Ezekiel asked.
“It takes nearly two days to get to Harlem. I ain’t touching that basket until we’re on the train.”
Honoree was cold and nervous, not hungry. Walking through the station had her imagining all sorts of calamities. Every white man who passed by might pull out a tommy gun and shoot them down.
“I’ll find something for you two to eat once we get settled,” Ezekiel said. “You will love New York. I promise.”
“It’ll take some adjustment, but everything will be jake soon enough.” Her attempt at a lighthearted tone sounded false to her ears and likely to Ezekiel’s as well. He found a spot for them in the colored section, and they sat on a long wood pew. “I’ll be right back.”
Bessie snuggled up close to Honoree, her head resting on her shoulder.
A few minutes later, Honoree spotted Ezekiel, his hands empty, running toward her with Jeremiah on his heels.
“What is it?” Honoree asked. “Ezekiel?”
“Oh my God.” Bessie sat up beside her. “What’s wrong? Does Archie know I killed his brother? Is he coming for me?”
