The Space Between Suns

I sent my father a note with two words: George Wheatley. I knew that that was all he’d need to know if indeed he didn’t already. It would be enough. After sending it away, I didn’t think about it again.

I packed our suitcases myself, each a beautiful brown leather we would take onto the boat with us. Over the days I had watched much of our luggage disappear from the flat, taken ahead and waiting for our departure.

Our ship was scheduled to leave early in the morning. I had seen many such ships depart: great billows of white steam pouring into the air, a massive ship towering above docks scattered with people. Those departing as well as those wishing they were departing. Workers loading crates and barrels. There would be people in shabbier clothing filing into the lower classes, and people dripping with clothing and servants marching into suites full of crystal. It would be exciting.

And dangerous.

After I told Chas about my meeting with Sally, he arranged for us to board the ship the night before. So, I finished packing in the late afternoon, slipping the few small baby gowns we had into Chas’s case. I smiled thinking of him finding them later that night as we readied for bed, already safe in our cabin. I imagined his smile. I had seen it so often those days.

I placed my hand briefly on my stomach as I slipped the gowns into the empty spaces of his suitcase. It had not been enough time yet for me to really begin to show, but I liked to think that I could feel a very slight roundness beginning to form. A bit more evidence of the hope that was our child. I smiled at the thought and buckled both suitcases shut before wandering out of the room to find Chas.

He was sitting at his desk reading a note but smiled when I entered the room.

“What is that?” I gestured to the note, pushing some of his papers away so I could lean against the edge of the desk.

“It’s from my foreman. I had a shipment come in last night. The very last one.” He took my hand and kissed it briefly. “He wants us to stop by the warehouse on our way to the boat. I need to make sure everything is in order with it.”

The foreman could’ve done it, we both knew that. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask that of him. Chas needed one more moment in that warehouse, one more moment in the place that had helped him begin a new life. It wasn’t about the champagne or the whisky or the gin those crates and barrels held. It was about the fact that the young man who had stepped into that warehouse years ago was not the same one who would be leaving it behind forever that night.

I had made a new dress for our trip to the boat. It was a soft pink studded in decoration. Though not in a gaudy way. It wasn’t the kind I would’ve worn to a speakeasy to draw the eye. It caught subtle patterns of light as the skirt twirled about my knees. Like a promise. Just the kind of thing that whispered of our new life together.

I watched the hem catch the last rays of sun as we left the apartment some hours later. A discreet white fur coat hugged my shoulders as Chas loaded our last two suitcases in the car and joined me in the back seat. He kissed me as we were driven away. I sat as close to him as I could during the drive, smiling as he reached inside my coat to place his hand on my belly. I covered it with my own and felt the hope grow even more between us. He kissed the tip of my nose. He knew.

The warehouse wasn’t far from the ship. It had some understated sign on the front, the name of the car business Chas officially owned. As we pulled up to the front the golden-red rays of the sunset lit up the sign and then disappeared from it. He turned to me and squeezed my hand, “Come with me?”

We walked through the warehouse as the shadows deepened, and I watched workers begin to come out of the corners. A few of them nodded to me respectfully, one even murmured, “Good evening, Mrs. Truman.”

I nodded back and continued to follow Chas throughout the building, hating that a knot of uncertainty was beginning to grow in my stomach. Chas squeezed my hand tightly as if he could feel it.

“Chas, can we please…”

“We just need to check this crate. Then we’ll go.”

I am not sure now what happened first after that. I watched Chas open that last crate with a crowbar, and then heard crashes. Before I could understand it, there was glass everywhere. Windows, bottles. There were sparks flying from the broken lights. I heard shouts and screaming and distantly knew that some of that was my own voice screaming for Chas.

I think I heard him saying my name. Over and over again. But I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t see him. I felt him scoop me into his arms and run then, but we didn’t go far. He took me into a

nearby office and locked the door, settling us against the wall.

“Chas! What’s happening?” He was holding me against his chest, but I felt him looking out the window in the door.

“It’s a raid.” His voice was quiet and surprisingly calm.

“The police? Is it the police?”

“No.” He left me and crawled across the floor, pulling a gun from the bottom drawer of a desk. “It isn’t. Amelia Grace.” I was curled against the door and couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. “Amelia Grace, look at me!” The urgency of his voice snapped me towards his eyes. “We’re going to get out of here. We’re going to make it to the car. I need you to listen to me.” I nodded and swallowed hard. I watched him load the gun with bullets and then crawl back over to me.

I felt everything come slowly into focus and my breath begin to steady. And as this happened, I heard the shouting outside the office and gunshots. I hated that only a flimsy door separated us from that.

I looked over at Chas and saw the wheels in his mind turning, forming a plan. I swallowed one more time and made myself breathe, tossing my coat to the side. “Is there another gun, Chas?” He met my eyes, perhaps to make sure they were clear and ready. He handed me his and crawled back over to the desk, pulling out another one and loading it. He tossed me a box of bullets before joining me again.

“There’s a door around the corner. If we run, we should be able to make it.”

“And if it’s blocked?”

“Then the nearest one is the one we came in through.” I nodded and rose to crouch on my feet, peering over the edge of the window. Crates and barrels were everywhere, smashed to pieces. I thought I could faintly see smoke coming from somewhere.

“Chas, they’ve started a fire.” He moved next to me and came to look out the window. It was complete chaos. Besides the smashed boxes and growing clouds of smoke, I tried not to look at the bodies I saw or the sounds of shouting and shooting. Would we really be able to get out?

“Miss Stanton! Miss Stanton!” At first, I thought I was imagining that, but suddenly a figure appeared out of the smoke and rushed to the door. I recognized him faintly but couldn’t remember his name. Couldn’t fathom, in fact, why he was even there. “Your father sent me!” He was shouting and trying to open the door. “I have a car right outside. They’ve torched yours. Come with me!”

We had no choice but to believe him.

The door flew open and we ran together in a clump. I had been right. The door around the corner

was now covered in an overturned truck gushing oil. As we ran, we passed even more carnage and more bodies.

“Who are these people?” Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked. Did it really matter?

“They’re with Wheatley.”

“Down!” Chas screamed, pulling us behind a wall as gunshots littered the ground around us. I could see the door from our hiding place, barely cracked open. Moonlight flooded through it. I tried not to cough at the smoke, but it was becoming thicker now and burning my eyes.

“Both of you need to make a run for it.” The man said. “I’ll cover you. Those are my orders. The car is just outside. Get away as fast as you can.” Chas grabbed my hand and pulled me into the smoke. We ran. Gunshots rang out behind us. If a bullet had hit me, I wasn’t sure I’d have even known. It seemed we’d never reach the door.

But we did.

Smoke poured out with us, but the night air was fresh and cold. It shocked me into awareness, and I dropped my gun, allowing Chas to pull me towards the car. “Almost there, love.”

One of the car windows shattered with the sound of a gunshot. We turned in unison, Chas’s gun raised towards the shooter.

“George?” My voice was dry and broken.

“Hello, Amelia Grace.” His voice was normal, as if he weren’t standing outside this burning warehouse, pointing a gun at my husband. Chas didn’t say anything, and he didn’t lower his own weapon.

“What’s going on?” I choked. “What do you want?”

Neither of the men spoke.

“We’re leaving, George! We’re leaving Boston! We’re on our way to the boat right now. Put the gun down and you’ll never see us again.” The desperation in my voice tore through my throat like a wild animal. Still nothing. Chas’s jaw clenched and he inched forward.

“Wheatley, put the gun down and walk away.”

“Or what?” George finally spat. “Are you going to shoot me, Charles? Add another black mark to your list?”

“Is that what this is about for you, George? Truly? Are you here in the name of justice? You’ve

destroyed the shipment. The warehouse is on fire. What more do you want? What?!” George’s eyes looked hollow and empty. He didn’t know. And he hadn’t realized that until that very moment. “I know what I want, George. I’m leaving Boston and I plan to never see you again. Get out of here. Let me leave with my wife.”

George’s hand fell to his side. Chas began to push me behind him.

“Get in the car, Amelia Grace.”

But I never got in that car. And neither did Chas. Because George shot him.

The shot rang out louder than anything I had ever heard and hit my husband’s body with a dull thud. There were screams, but they weren’t my own. They were George’s. He was screaming, the gun still in his hand, running towards us.

“Charles! Amelia Grace! What… what…” He knelt beside us and pulled on Chas’s arm. “I didn’t know! I didn’t mean it!” And then he was gone. I’ll never know where George Wheatley went after that, but I do know he was never seen alive again.

“Charles.” The voice that came from my lips was calm and sure. Chas had been breathing heavily, body shaking, eyes wild. But when they met mine, he was calm. I was pressing down hard on the wound, trying to keep the warm blood inside of him.

“Amelia Grace.” Even his voice was calm. He gripped one of my arms and caressed my cheek with the other. “Are you alright? Is the baby alright?”

“Yes, Chas.” I cooed, kissing his palm. “We’re both just fine.”

“Good.” His green eyes were full of tears that spilled out onto his cheeks. “Good.”

I didn’t know how long we had. I distantly heard sirens, but I pushed all of that out of my mind. I was there with Chas. The man I loved. My husband. The father of my child.

“Please tell the baby. Tell the baby I love him. Or her. Tell them…” He couldn’t speak anymore, and then I saw one of my own tears fall onto his cheek.

“I will, Chas. I will. I’ll tell them everything. Everything, I promise.” He tried to thank me, but no sound came from his lips. He closed his eyes a bit. “Look in my eyes, Charles. Right here! Right in my eyes! Look at me!” He did. Our eyes came together in the same way they had the night we met. With everything in our souls binding together and knowing things there weren’t words to say out loud. I tried to speak again. I tried to say everything. But I couldn’t. Not with his eyes flooding in tears, not with his blood leaking through my fingers. But then he smiled.

Because he knew.

~~

I purchased a flat above the streets of Paris. And I gave birth to our son there several months later. He was small and perfect, with black curls and a beautiful cry. I pulled him against my bare skin and cried with him.

“Your father loves you so much.”

Charles Roy Truman grew quickly. I watched him thrive in the life of a new city, watched his green eyes light up at new things. I taught him about music and theater. I taught him about books. But mostly, I taught him about love. I held him close to me in the night if he had bad dreams, cradling his small head against my heartbeat. And I told him stories about his father.

And I told him that in the morning, there would be life and joy. And love.