As they crept back into the cover of the woods, off Marlowe’s property, Mabel stopped.
“What’s the matter?” Arthur asked, doubling back.
A rush of panic flooded Mabel. She wanted to lie down and shut her eyes like a child playing hide-and-seek. She was taking her first steps as her own person, away from Evie and Jericho and her parents. She wasn’t at all sure of herself. Not one bit.
“Arthur, tell me what we’re doing is right.”
Arthur wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest. It felt so good, so right next to him. She decided to let that be her answer.
“Ready?” Arthur asked.
Mabel nodded.
“Duck,” he said, and pushed in the detonator.
For two seconds, it seemed to Mabel that the entire world had stopped to hold its breath. Then a great fireball exploded from the mine’s mouth. The mine collapsed in on itself. Choking black smoke poured out. It was mesmerizing and terrifying. Everything was burning. Even from a safe distance, Mabel’s cheeks felt singed and her eyes stung. A few seconds later, the company store exploded, too, sending shrapnel flying in all directions.
“Come on!” Arthur said, and Mabel followed, running full out.
By the time Arthur and Mabel made it back to the hiding spot near the river, Mabel had to bend over to catch her breath. Behind them, the night was on fire. Jake Marlowe’s mine lay in ruins.
“You made it,” Gloria said, coming out from behind a tree.
“Yeah,” Arthur gasped.
“Where are Aron and Luis?”
“They’ll be here,” Arthur insisted. “Come on. Let’s get this covered.”
The three of them piled boughs on top of the Dodge.
“You were terrific out there,” Mabel said to Gloria when she’d caught her breath again.
“Thanks, Mabel. For a second, I thought I was a goner,” Gloria admitted. “Isn’t this exciting?” Impulsively, she kissed Mabel’s cheek, and Mabel felt like they were two girlfriends with a delicious secret. It was so much more important than being friends with Evie and Theta. Mabel and Gloria were part of a movement, a cause. Evie? Evie was chasing ghosts and selling soap. For the first time in her life, Mabel felt special and necessary. This was not her mother’s moment or Evie’s or anybody else’s; it belonged to Mabel.
“I am working toward greatness,” she whispered to herself.
Gloria stripped off her dress and struggled into her shapeless farmer’s wife dress and apron, pulling an unfashionable flowered hat over her bobbed hair. A ball of knitting completed the domestic picture. Arthur stepped into a pair of baggy coveralls and darkened his hair with coal dust.
“How do we look?” Arthur asked. “Like a couple of dairy farmers?”
“I don’t know a lot of dairy farmers, but I’d say yes,” Mabel said.
Shyly, Mabel removed her sweater and cap, and Arthur wrapped all of their old clothes around a rock and sank them in the river. He climbed into the driver’s side; Gloria, the passenger side. Mabel clambered onto the truck’s long bed, clinking past the crates of milk bottles they’d planted to back up their story. Then they waited for Aron and Luis. Over the percolator hum of the truck’s motor, Mabel could hear the distant shouting. An eerie orange glow lit up the sky. Smoke poured through the trees like a St. Walpurgis Night festival. Already, the fire was burning toward the road. They could even feel some of the heat where they were. Mabel raised the binoculars. Guards were running about. Some of the militiamen had joined them. They grabbed buckets of sand and water for the fire. Even some of the striking workers had joined in to help. Still there was no sign of Aron and Luis. Where were they? Mabel thought she’d scream from nerves.
“It’s been five minutes. We should go,” Gloria cautioned from the front seat.
“We can’t just leave them!” Mabel cried.
“That was the plan. We all agreed. They knew the risks,” Gloria said.
“Just one more minute,” Mabel pleaded.
Chewing the inside of his cheek, Arthur looked from Gloria to Mabel and back out at the eerie backlit trees.
“Arthur… !” Gloria warned.
“Just another minute,” he said.
“It’s too hot. They might close the road!” Gloria said. “We’ll get caught if we d—”
The slap-slap-slap of three quick rifle shots pierced the night, making Mabel jump.
“What was that?” Gloria whispered.
Two more shots rang out. With shaking hands, Mabel raised the binoculars. She could see the militiamen running for their trucks.
“Mabel?” Arthur.
“They’re getting into their trucks.” Her heart felt as if it would burst from fear. “They’re on the move.”
“That’s it. We can’t wait another second,” Arthur said.
Mabel held on tightly as Arthur shifted the truck onto the old dirt road. She wanted to cry, but she was too frightened for tears. She kept the binoculars pressed against her eyes, searching for any sign of Luis and Aron.
“Come on, come on,” she whispered prayerfully.
Gloria leaned out her window, angling her face toward the back. “Mabel! What are you doing? Lie down under the tarp this instant!”
“I haven’t given up yet,” Mabel said.
“You’re going to get us arrested—or killed!”
Shapes darted between the dark trees. For all Mabel knew, it could be militiamen coming for them. Her heart beat so fast it felt as if it would burst. She squinted hard against the plumes of irritating smoke blowing toward them, and then she was smacking her palm against the side of Arthur’s door. Aron and Luis were racing after the moving truck.
“There they are! I see them!” she cried.
Arthur jerked to a stop, keeping the motor running, and Mabel crawled to the back and helped haul her exhausted friends onto the truck bed. Aron and Luis sprawled onto their backs, gasping for breath.
“Thanks for… waiting,” Luis managed between fits of coughing.
“It was Mabel who spotted you,” Arthur said over the motor’s hum.
“Ah, Mabel Rose, you are true to your name and just as sweet,” Luis said on scant breath.
Aron grinned. “We did it! Those bastards won’t be making money off scab labor anymore.”
“We’re not safe yet,” Arthur warned. “Stay quiet and hidden.”
Mabel pulled the tarp over the back of the truck, and the three of them crouched down behind the stacked milk crates. Mabel cracked open one of the bottles and handed it to the boys, who swigged generously and coughed just as heartily. The truck jostled down the rutted road—just a dairy farmer and his wife making the morning rounds. But soon they slowed to a stop.
“Why are we stopping?” Luis whispered.
Mabel peeked out from under the tarp and her heart sank. “Pinkertons. Blocking the road,” she whispered.
“We’re done for,” Aron said.
“Shhh. Have faith,” Luis said.
Mabel lifted the tarp ever so slightly and saw an agent approach the driver’s window. Arthur snugged his cap down lower over his newly darkened hair. There was coal dust on his shoulder. She hoped the agent couldn’t see it.
“Morning. My wife and I saw the fire,” Arthur said, making his voice calm and country. “What’s the trouble?”
The agent looked at Arthur for a long time. Mabel was sure her pounding blood could be heard from under the tarp. If they were discovered, they’d go to prison for certain. But there was always the chance the agents might just shoot them there and then, and be done with it.
“Anarchists just blew up the mine,” the agent answered at last.
Arthur shook his head in disapproval. “That a fact? Well, I’ll be.”
“It isn’t safe anywhere nowadays,” Gloria said.
“No, ma’am. It sure isn’t.”
Let us go, let us go, let us go, Mabel prayed silently.
“Mind if I check the back of your wagon, there?” the agent s
aid.
Mabel pressed a hand to her mouth to keep the scream in. Beside her, she saw Luis’s lips moving in silent prayer. Aron trembled, his eyes tightly shut.
“Not at all,” Arthur said. “Just getting a jump on the morning run. Got a long drive ahead. Taking the cream all the way to Camden today. Care to wet your whistle? Got a bottle right here. Finest milk in New Jersey, if I do say so myself.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” the agent said. He took the bottle from Arthur and swigged half of it down. His rifle gleamed in the fire-tinged night. “That is awfully fine cream.”
The agent peered at the tarp again. He took a step forward. Mabel held her breath as he sipped from the bottle. But then he stepped back, smiling. “Well, I’ll let you get on your way, then. You folks be careful, though. Don’t pick up any strangers out here. We got orders to shoot to kill.”
“Will do. Thank you, sir,” Arthur said.
The truck lurched forward, and Mabel didn’t let out her breath till she could see the agents and the fire receding into the night.
EVERYTHING WAS DIFFERENT NOW
By the time the Secret Six had made it back to Manhattan, it was nearly four in the morning. After they’d ditched the truck on the West Side, the adrenaline loss left everyone limp and sleepy. Arthur promised to see Mabel back to Evie’s hotel, where she’d told her mother she was staying for the night.
“Come up for a second first?” he said as they stood outside the bookshop.
While he searched for his key, Mabel leaned her head back to take in the full scope of the night sky. Were those the same stars and moon she’d seen before they’d blown up the mine? Everything felt different now. She was different. When they entered Arthur’s flat, it also seemed different with just the two of them in it, the street light shining through the window and pooling onto the floor. It was both threatening and exciting. Mabel was nervous. She let her fingers trail over the back of a chair. The sensation made her dizzy.
Arthur lowered the blinds and Mabel’s heartbeat quickened. In the slashes of light, she could see the outline of his firm body, the sinewy muscles cut like a navy yard brawler’s.
“Why do you do that?” she asked.
“What?”
“Raise and lower the blinds so much.”
“I don’t know. I like the street light at night, I guess. It’s comforting. I know I’m a little old for that, but…” He shrugged, sheepish. One minute, Arthur was streetwise and bold, full of swagger. The next, he was boyish and sweet. Right now the way he was looking at her was anything but boyish.
“I-I should probably go home,” Mabel said, though she didn’t want to leave.
Arthur closed the distance between them. “Didn’t you tell your parents you were staying the night with Evie?”
Mabel swallowed hard. “Yes.”
He took hold of Mabel’s hand and laced his fingers through hers. Mabel could scarcely breathe. Arthur cocked his head. “Is… is there another fella?”
Another fella. It was funny to Mabel now to think that she had ever wanted Jericho. Cool, detached Jericho. They were chalk and cheese. Arthur was a fire and, at twenty, a man. It was only just now dawning on Mabel that she had found someone to match her passion.
“No. Not anymore,” she answered.
“I like you so much, Mabel Rose. Do you…?” He left it unfinished.
“Yes.”
Arthur drew Mabel into his arms and kissed her.
The only other kiss Mabel had known was with Jericho. Even then, she’d suspected he had done it more out of curiosity and politeness than real desire. Now that she was being kissed properly, she knew the difference. Arthur held her tightly. The stubble of his chin scratched her cheek, not unpleasantly. She had the fleeting thought that she’d need to cover it with powder later—maybe Theta would have some? But then she was lost to that fire again.
Arthur broke away, and Mabel wanted him back.
“Stay?” Arthur pushed back the curtain. His bed lay behind it.
For just a second, Mabel wished she could call and ask Evie what she should do. But Mabel had been breaking the old rules tonight. She was a new girl. No, a new woman. She needed to make her own decisions. She was shy about showing her body. Slim flappers with sun-golden tans were the fashion. Mabel’s body was curvaceous and soft, pale and a little freckled. What if Arthur didn’t like the way she looked and felt? He moved behind her and unbuttoned her dress, letting it slip to the floor. He kissed tenderly from her right shoulder up her neck to her ear. Mabel moaned as his hands came around front and cupped her full breasts under her chemise. And then her chemise was on the floor. She curled into herself, seated at the edge of the bed.
“I want to look at you,” Arthur said. His voice was husky. It made Mabel’s stomach flutter, made her head dizzy.
She turned to face him, keeping her arms protectively crossed over her chest like a shield. Arthur was naked. Mabel gasped. She’d never seen a naked man before, and she’d certainly never seen an aroused naked man. The moonlight shone on Arthur’s tight muscles, making them seem carved of marble. There was a dusting of hair that led from his navel down to the part that both fascinated and terrified her. She was doing this, then. They were doing this. This was real.
“I want to see you. All of you,” Arthur said gently. He ran the back of his hand down one of Mabel’s crossed arms. Mabel lowered them, exposing herself, blushing as Arthur took in all of her. Arthur leaned forward and kissed her sweetly on the lips. Then he laid her back on the bed and kissed her breasts, moving farther and farther down. Instinctively, she clamped her legs shut.
“No?” Arthur whispered, coming back up to face her. He swept her hair back from her forehead and looked into her eyes.
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
“I’m… I don’t know what to do.”
Arthur kissed her. “I do,” he whispered.
Slowly, she opened her legs. Mabel had felt many wonderful things: the first snow landing on her upturned face. The warm summer sun shining down on her toes in the Coney Island sand. But when Arthur touched her between her legs with his warm, sure fingers, she was certain it was the most exquisite feeling she had ever had in her life. He kept at it, building heat there until she thought she might burst from ecstasy. Warmth shot from her belly up to her head, and she cried out and flung her arms around Arthur’s neck. He smiled and reached into his nightstand drawer and brought out a small package.
“A raincoat,” Arthur said, taking out the rubber and putting it on. Mabel looked away, embarrassed. It seemed silly to be embarrassed by this considering what he’d just done to her, what they were about to do, but somehow watching this act made everything seem all too real.
“I love you, Mabel Rose,” Arthur said, and then he was inside her. At first, there was a little pain. But then, as they moved together, it went away. Mabel felt warm and free. Her mind whirred:
He said he loves me.
I am now a woman.
My mother would kill me if she knew. My father would kill him.
Will they be able to read it in my face? Will everybody?
I got there before Evie did—I was finally first.
Everything is different now.
Arthur cried out and went very still. For a second, Mabel was afraid she’d hurt him. He collapsed and rolled to the side of her, breathing heavily. Grinning. He was grinning from ear to ear. I did that, Mabel thought. I made him smile like that.
“Come here, you,” Arthur growled, and drew Mabel into his arms. “Mabel Rose. My beautiful Mabel Rose.” They lay like that for some time until they fell asleep.
Only a few blocks away, Henry and David sat beside each other at the piano and finished up a song they’d been working on well into the night.
“And with each kiss such bliss is mine, you see. For he’s the boy whose heart beats sweet for me.…” Henry sang. He looked shyly at David. “They’ll make us change that line, you know.”
“Yeah. I know. But I wanted to hear you sing it to me just once.”
“I’ll sing it to you anytime,” Henry said.
“That true?” David asked, keeping his eyes on the piano keys. And Henry could feel the real question lurking underneath: Do you really care about me? Or are you still in love with a ghost?
After Louis, Henry had held back some part of himself. He was afraid of being hurt again. There’d been so much loss that sometimes, Henry worried that he would always walk through life with a thin glaze over the cracks in his heart. But sitting there on the piano bench, looking at David’s sensual profile, listening to him play with the melody they’d written together, it was almost as if he could hear Louis whispering to him: You got a lot to live for, cher. You can run from it or you can fight for it.
When Henry didn’t answer, David turned to face him, puzzled. “What?”
“This,” Henry said, and kissed David deeply.
David put two fingers to Henry’s lips. He bent his forehead to Henry’s. “Don’t toy with me. I can’t.”
“I’m not playing. I swear it,” Henry said.
This time, David kissed him so passionately they fell off the piano bench.
“Ow!” David said, rubbing his arm.
“Sorry. I’ll stop—”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Then they were tearing at each other’s clothes, fumbling with buttons on their way to the couch. David kissed down Henry’s bare chest, listening to his gasps of pleasure. And then Henry wrestled David onto his back; his hands snaked into David’s thick curls as he pressed his mouth to David’s, their tongues dancing, bodies pressed together.
“I could sing you another verse,” Henry said, stopping to lean his cheek on his palm.
David grabbed Henry down on top of him. “Don’t. You. Dare,” he growled, and slid his hands into Henry’s trousers until Henry’s jokes were gone; he could think of nothing but what he and David were about—tongues and lips and fingers—and how incredible it felt to choose happiness, to let yourself be so completely alive. To let go of your ghosts.
Sam couldn’t sleep. The radiators blasted at full heat. He’d cracked a window to let in some cool night air, but it was his thoughts that kept him up as much as the temperature. He’d been thinking of Evie. Why couldn’t he just let go?