Ten blocks into the walk, thunder clapped over Lake Michigan. They turned the corner near Mount Olive Baptist Church, and within a block, Mother Nature had dumped a cold mix of rain and sleet on top of their heads.
“We’ve got to get out of this.” Honoree let go of his arm and covered her hair as best she could. She scampered beneath an awning in front of a storefront with aCLOSEDsign in the window. Ezekiel moved with her, raising the collar of his peacoat to protect himself from the rain.
Honoree blinked water from her lashes, while Ezekiel remained silent. “I’m sure you’d rather not talk about what happened at Miss Hattie’s, but what is there between you and Dewey? There were signs of trouble that first night I saw you.”
A sharp inhale of breath, but he didn’t speak.
“Did you know Dewey keeps a Colt .38 revolver behind the bar? He practically waved it in your face—and you just stood there—behaving like a very foolish man.”
“Sometimes I am foolish,” he said, finally opening his mouth. “But the Graves brothers, Archie and Dewey, aren’t reasonable men.”
“I have worked at Miss Hattie’s for three years. I know how those boys can be.”
“If you know, then why have you worked there for so long?”
She twisted her neck and, for her trouble, got a close-up view of the jaw muscle twitching beneath Ezekiel’s thin beard. “I had no choice. Why do you work for him?”
“I could go on and on answering that question.”
“I’m sure you could, but you won’t.”
He folded his arms. “Me? What about how you behaved that first night? I thought you and Dewey were an item. Then I learned it was mostly Archie who lapped behind you like a rabid dog.”
“Is that why you don’t like him—because of me?”
“You do have them wrapped around your finger.”
She had Ezekiel wrapped around her finger once upon a time. The memories of how they used to be together kept rolling back, trampling over her like mice in a cornfield.
Travelers scurried over the sidewalk seeking shelter from the storm. Another clap of thunder drove Honoree into the folds of Ezekiel’s overcoat, quivering.
“You always hated bad weather, Honoree.”
Self-conscious, she jerked away from him but not too far as to abandon the protection of the awning or his solid frame. “It doesn’t bother me no more. I grew out of that childishness.”
The next blast of thunder pressed her against the wall, the meager protection of the awning forgotten.
“Hey, I’m fine,” Ezekiel said. “You can go home. I’ll hail you a cab.” He jutted his head from beneath the covering, but the storm intensified, drawing him back.
“There won’t be any cabs,” Honoree said. “Not in weather like this.”
He blinked water from his eyelashes and wiped the moisture from his face. “We’ll wait here until the rain stops, or you’ll be soaked to the skin.”
The water bounced off the ground. Honoree edged back, away from the street until her spine touched the door. Ezekiel stood in front of her, blocking the wind and the cold.
“Why did you come upstairs?” he asked. “To save me?”
“It was Bessie. She’s fickle. One day she wants to knock you in the head with a stick, the next she wants to keep you alive.” She paused. “She told me Dewey had a gun and all you had were your fists.”
“I had hopes you came running because you care about me.”
“You didn’t give me any word on Mr. Buttons, and I wanted to know what you had learned before Dewey shot you. That was the basis of my concern about your well-being,” she lied.
He moved from beneath the awning. “The weather seems to be letting up.”
Another bolt of lightning blasted across the sky. A stiff breeze rode with it.
“Still raining cats and dogs.”
