Chapter 50
When the three of us returned upstairs, I was still reeling from the discovery. On our way back through the cellar, I'd grabbed a random bottle of wine, and was planning to get started on it right away.
All things considered, I definitely needed it.
I'd already mentioned what I knew of the house's history, focusing on the fact that it had been built by a Chicago bootlegger during the height of prohibition.
Afterward, we all agreed that the secret passage made a lot of sense. The narrow beach beyond the pump house would be the perfect place to launch a small boat – or to reach a larger one by dinghy.
From there, it would be a straight shot to Chicago, crossing over Lake Michigan.
As for my relatives, they wouldn’t even need a boat. They'd just need a lack of scruples and knowledge of the secret entrance. I couldn’t help but wonder, had my parents known about the entrance, too? And if so, why didn't they tell me?
But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. The whole secret passageway would've been a huge temptation, especially to a kid. And just beyond that passageway were slippery rocks, a narrow beach, and endless water.
If that wasn't a safety hazard, I didn't know what was.
Now, standing in the kitchen, Joel and Bishop were discussing the mechanics of the passageway and how it might be secured. While they talked, I retrieved a corkscrew and some wine glasses from a far cupboard.
When I returned and began working at the wine bottle, Joel held out his hand. "Here. I'll get that."
Silently, I handed it over, along with the corkscrew, and then watched as he opened the bottle easily and set it down on the nearby counter.
I gave Joel and Bishop a hopeful look. "You're having some too, right?"
Bishop declined, saying that he wanted to – in his words – check the perimeter for more breaches.
It was a nice thought, but I wasn't sure that was a good idea. "But it's so late."
Bishop nodded. "Exactly."
"But—"
Joel spoke up. "Just let him, alright?" He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. "Besides, we need to talk."
Before I could protest further, Bishop turned away and started heading toward the back door. Unable to stop myself, I called out after him. "Be careful. The steps are probably slippery..." But he was already gone, so I let my words trail off. "…because it's been raining and all."
Next to me, Joel said, "He'll be fine."
"But—"
"Stop thinking about it."
But I couldn’t stop, even as I poured two glasses of wine and took a long, steady drink from one of them. I still felt guilty. Outside, it was dark and muddy. And where was I? In a nice, warm kitchen, drinking wine.
When I returned my half-empty glass to the counter, Joel gave me a concerned look. "Don't worry. They won't be here long."
"Who? Your brothers? I'm not worried." I glanced toward the back door. "Well, I'm a little worried about Bishop being out there in the dark, but I'm not worried on my own behalf, if that's what you mean." I considered the time. "It's pretty late. Should we see if they want to spend the night?"
Joel stiffened. "No. Not gonna happen."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't trust him."
I didn't need to ask who. "You mean Jake?"
"Yeah. That's exactly who I mean."
