The Bull, displaying rare affection, patted Emil on the shoulder. “Thanks, but I gotta stay standing, Emil. In case. You know. Duty.”
Oh, yeah. The Bull-protector of Wall Street-had to be ready on his feet to chase down wind-blown umbrellas or give directions to tourists.
Emil nodded in grave sympathy. “Always duty first, Bull. God bless you.”
I turned my head, suddenly happy I’d missed lunch.
“Enough of this. A stack of chores’re waitin’ for me.”
My eyebrows shot up. Was Jamey making demands? Of Emil? Of me? Kid had moxie. A bit of pride tickled my chest.
Jamey folded his arms, the bill still crumpled in his fist. He braced his thin legs and stuck out his chin. Kid meant business.
Bull’s eyebrows rose. He winked at Jamey. “He’s serious, Emil. Jamey delivers his mother’s mending every day over to the club girls. That’s how they get on.”
Emil smiled at Jamey. “I’ll try to hurry, then, son. A good boy.”
I patted Jamey’s shoulder. “All will become clear soon. Trust me.” Oh dear. I hated that phrase. “Give Emil the fiver.”
He almost didn’t… then he did. If he weren’t only eight, I’d have been fearful of crossing him in business. Thankfully, he was only eight.
Emil took the bill, sniffed at it.
I cleared my throat. “It’s a bill, Emil. Not something to eat.”
Emil bobbed his head gently. “Habit. Different times.” He chuckled at himself, then stretched his long arms and filled his lungs with air, and finally began. “Zis young woman-”
I interrupted, “Long time ago, right Emil?” Bull frowned at me, but I didn’t care. Emil needed direction.
“Oh, yass. Long ago. Forty years, I am tinking. Her name vas Rose. Because of her hair, I’m sure you understand.” He directed this at Jamey, who nodded as he shoved grubby red bangs out of his eyes. “See, this young lady vas truly a lady, believe me, but as ve all must do things to keep da beer on the table, so did she. She verked in a musical bar, and instead of valking around, she roller-skated on the vooden floor. It vas a novelty of da time.”
Jamey gasped. “Really? I’da liked to seen that!”
Emil leaned forward and grabbed one of Jamey’s paws. “A good son like you, I vould not lie.” He settled back again and sighed. “One day, she, uh… she died.”
I almost fell into the street. “She didn’t die. She married you. Remember, Emil?”
Emil looked at me, eyes unfocused for a few moments. Then they cleared. “Yass. You are right. Da lovely Rose consented to be my vife. She retired her skates and verked to make a good home for us. Ve both hoped for a son.” His voice trailed off in sadness. “Like zis dear boy…”
“And you had several, didn’t you?” I prompted. Bull frowned at me again. I lifted my hands to him, meaning, somebody has to keep him on track. Bull nodded. He knew about the loot lost somewhere in old Emil’s memory, and he knew I did, too. So he stayed pleasant and waited for more of the story to unfold.
“What were your sons’ names, Emil?” That might help, if he remembered them all.
“Mmm…” Emil looked at his feet. Thinking. I hope.
“Walter?” I started him off.
“Nah, not Valter, Giselle vas da first.”
“That’s a girl’s name,” Jamey stated flatly. He looked at me. “I know that much.”
“Yes, indeed,” agreed Bull. He nudged me with a toe. “Actually, Emil had all girls.”
I brushed dust from my shins resentfully. “Nix that. How would you know?”
“Of course Bull vould know!” said Emil, frowning at me. The frown faded. And when Bull sighed, I knew Emil’s memory was again derailed.
“Sorry I mentioned it,” I told Bull. And meant it.
Bull rocked on his massive feet and murmured to Emil, “Alice.” That galvanized Emil. “Yass, yass! Alice, my luffly Alice.”
He smiled up at Bull, who said, “She was very lovely. Who else do you remember?”
Emil breathed deeply, making an effort to remember for Bull. “V-um-Vanessa. Yass. Ah, my luffly Vanessa, she loved to dance, like her mother.” The memory evidently made him happy.
Bull shifted. “So Emil, how many daughters were you and the beautiful Rose blessed with, huh?”
Emil shook his head. “So long ago. Seven little girls we had. Little girls with pretty red hair and dresses. Shoes, dey needed. Dere feet, they grew and grew. Like the girls themselves.” He sighed. “Dey were angry with me always. Always needing stockings, school books I could not afford… This is vy I hire my services to dem. Over dere.” He tipped his head toward the exchange. “I vas a very good accountant,” he added heatedly.
Okay. Now we were getting somewhere. I cleared my throat. “I’m sure. And now your girls are lovely, lovely grown-up women. Aren’t they, Emil?” Subtle. Nothing heavy handed. I felt proud of myself.
But Emil shrugged. “I don’t know…”
Jamey tilted his head. “Sure you do. You’re the papa, you had to raise them and then marry them off so some other guy would buy their dresses and food. And then you get grandbabies.”
I stared at Jamey. “Full of surprises, you are, kiddo.”
Emil’s wrinkled old mouth puckered. Something was bothering him. I leaped in, hoping this would lead us to the right memories, the ones we wanted to hear. “So. Now. As Jamey said, your lovely girls all married handsome gentlemen-” I had to pause as Bull gave in to a fit of coughing, which sounded suspiciously like laughter. He finally settled down, red faced. “All done?” I asked him politely. He nodded. I returned to Emil. “So, they all married, did they?”
Again Emil shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Jamey stepped closer. “Why don’t you know? They’re your family. Right?”
Emil gave Bull a frightened look. He reached for his cane, his big hands fumbling and shaking. Jamey picked it up and handed it to him. Emil snatched it angrily. “I don’t know because I don’t know. If I know, den I must know what it is your Slick Nick and Bull want to hear. I don’t want to remember!”
Bull and I tried to hush him, but Jamey wouldn’t quit. “Don’t you live with your family?”
Emil turned, head trembling violently. “No, no. I don’t know.”
“Then who takes care of you? You’re sorta clean, ya don’t live on the streets, that’s clear enough. And look at the fat on ya. Somebody must keep you fed. Who?”
Emil stared wide-eyed down at Jamey. “I don’t know.” Despite his frail wobbles, he tried to go around Jamey.
But Jamey planted his fireplug body in front of him. Emil growled at him, but the kid didn’t seem worried. His words sounded stern. “Look. You don’t dump your family. You seem okay to me, for an ex-con. Families gotta take you back, anyway. ’At’s why you got family, Ma says.”
Emil stopped suddenly and peered at the little boy. He never wore glasses, but I’ll bet he needed them. “Your ma says dat?”
Jamey nodded vigorously.
“Do you-do you-have a papa?” Emil asked Jamey.
Jamey tilted his head. “Sure. Every kid’s got a pop somewheres. Ma says so, anyway.”
“Ah, ah, zo, he does not live in ze same house with you?”
Jamey shook his raggedy hair. A no, I presume. “He’s too busy, Ma says. I think he ran off. In fact… well, I just think it’s good he’s gone. Good for Ma, I mean. And us.”
“Us?” Emil inquired.
Jamey nodded. “Me an’ my brothers.”
Emil leaned on his cane. He wobbled, the cane wobbled, but in spite of all that movement, he appeared to be thinking. I rushed up to his side and touched his elbow.