Sold on a Monday: A Novel

The gun, the kids, the shootings—the scene came back in pieces. When Ellis first awoke in a hospital bed, the images were like the Sunday funnies chopped into strips and all mixed up. He sorted most of them with a nurse’s help, though he did question his grasp on reality upon seeing his parents enter the room.

After all, his scuffle at the Millstones’ seemed to have just happened, making it impossible for his folks to arrive so soon. This, aside from the stone-cold fact that Jim Reed didn’t go to hospitals. Ellis had known that for as long as he could remember. Granted, he only recently understood the full root of his father’s aversion.

Nevertheless, here the man was, in an actual hospital. His concern over Ellis appeared to outweigh even the discomfort of his surroundings, yet it was Ellis’s mother who prattled on.

“When the hospital phoned, you can only imagine what went through my head. We got here just as soon as we could.”

To help shed his mental fog, Ellis pushed against the mattress to edge himself up, stopping short when a pain stabbed his side. He clenched his jaw, stifling a groan.

“Do you need a doctor?” she asked. “I can find a nurse.”

“No, no, I’m fine…” He held his midsection, bound by bandages, catching his breath.

“Are you certain? Maybe you need more medicine. You did just have surgery.”

“Honest, I’m okay.”

“But if you’re hurting—”

His father jumped in. “Oh, Myrna, let him be. He’s a grown man. He knows what he needs.”

Ellis sent his father an appreciative glance. Even through the grogginess, the importance of those words didn’t bypass him.

His mother tsked but moved aside enough to let her husband finally chat with Ellis.

“You’ve had quite an eventful week,” his father remarked lightly.

“It hasn’t been dull.” Ellis’s childhood dream of writing an article that made a real impact might have come true in the strangest of ways, but with far more excitement than he counted on. “At least the kids are safe now.”

“Well, like I said, I knew you’d figure something out.” His father surveyed the hanging bottle of clear liquid and a tube curling its way into Ellis’s arm. “Course, I wasn’t expecting you to end up looking like a science experiment.”

“Believe me, Pop. Neither was I.”

His father chuckled, causing Ellis to do to the same until another sharp sensation needled his side.

“Gracious, Jim.” His mother gave a chiding tap to her husband’s arm. “You’re making it worse.”

As the pain subsided to a dull ache, a welcomed figure appeared just inside the doorway. A knockout, as always, by any standards that mattered. Ellis couldn’t think of a better distraction.

“Hey there, Lily.” He smiled, and his parents turned toward the door.

The brightness in Lily’s face dimmed on a dime. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize… I should have checked… I’ll gladly wait until later.”

“No, hold on,” he said, not wanting her to run off. When he couldn’t form the next words, his mother—the ever-keen observer and mediator—did it for him.

“It’s fine timing actually. Ellis’s father and I were about to check in with the doctor. And you’re Lily, is that right?”

“I am. I’m…a friend. From the paper…the Examiner, I mean.” The rarity of seeing her flustered made Ellis rather enjoy the exchange. “Please, though, don’t go on my account. I could come back.”

“Nonsense,” his mother said. “We’re in no hurry. Isn’t that right, Jim?”

“No hurry at all.” His father tipped Ellis a knowing look, and his mother angled back.

“If there’s anything you need, love, we won’t be far.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

After a tender pat to the crown of Ellis’s head, as she’d done countless times since he was a kid, she filed out of the room with his father, leaving Lily behind.

“I didn’t mean to nudge them out. I only came to hear how you’re feeling.”

“Like I’ve been run over by a roadster,” he answered in truth. “But I’ll make it.”

She nodded, proceeding toward him. “You’ve heard about Geraldine?”

“Yeah. Thank God she’ll be okay. I couldn’t imagine…”

“I know.”

There was no good reason to dwell. The Dillards would be happy, healthy, and together again, regardless of all the forces that had worked against them.

“The nurse told me Sylvia’s been arrested,” Ellis said as Lily settled on the chair beside him.

“For now. An officer expects there to be a deal to place her in an asylum. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Lily seemed somewhat irked by this, but Ellis didn’t view prison as the place for Sylvia. The woman’s need for serious help had been a long time coming. And even if he shouldn’t, part of him still sympathized.

“On a positive note,” Lily went on, “any previous charge against you won’t be an issue.”

“Just like that, huh?” He hadn’t considered it yet. But his bank account, too, ought to be in the clear.

“You are the hero of the hour.”

“Right. Some hero.” His banged-up body was far from that of a gallant knight—much less her dapper beau, Clayton Brauer.

“Every major paper in the city is vying for an exclusive. A detective wants to speak with you first, about the Millstones as well as the Gantrys. But after that, you’ll virtually have your choice of reporters.”

She was serious.

He almost laughed but caught himself, preventing another stab of pain. “Well, if I really have any pick, that’s an easy one.”

She scrunched her nose. “Who?”

“You.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m only a columnist, and barely that.”

“Lily—”

“Ellis, I’m flattered. But this story is too important, and I’m far too close to it. There must be somebody else you’d trust to get it right.”

As he gave it some thought, one other person did come to mind. A strong writer and a real pal: Dutch Vernon. No question, the guy wouldn’t rest until he did the story justice.

“Just promise me, then,” Ellis said, “that you’ll tell your side too. The whole thing, beginning to end.”

She still looked uncertain, and it occurred to him that this might come across as an excuse to keep her close, even as her life was moving on.

Sure, he couldn’t deny wanting that. But he did have another reason. “How I see it, if my first feature brought in that many donations for the Dillards, they’ll be able to fill a barge after this one. It’d definitely give the family a nice new start.”

Maybe, if they were lucky, they wouldn’t ever need to use Alfred’s cash payment to get by, though at least they had the option.

“True,” Lily said, coming around. “Of course, if you’d like, I could always leave certain elements out.”

It took him a second to decode the offer, a reference to the substitution of a photo that led to a lot of good, but absent of noble intentions.

“You could,” he said. “But I wouldn’t want you to.”

“Your editor at the Tribune, though—he’ll be comfortable with that?”

“Probably not.” Ellis smiled wryly, as career aspirations were currently the least of his worries. “But heck, there’s bound to be a paper on the lookout for a highly skilled Society reporter. Or who knows? When you leave for Chicago, the chief’ll need a new secretary, won’t he?”

Any amusement slid from her face. An echo of their past argument, of her role as a secretary, might have pushed a sore button.

Before he could backtrack, she explained, “I won’t be leaving the Examiner. Not for the time being. Clayton and I… We’ve decided to go our separate ways.”

Ellis reviewed her words, hoping medication hadn’t affected his hearing. Because if true, this was the sort of news he’d jump straight out of bed for—if the consequent pain wasn’t sure to toss him back on his rear.

Tentative, he asked, “What about Samuel? And you two being together?”

“I’ve juggled our lives for this long. In one more year, he’ll be of school age.” She shrugged. “By then, I’ll have even more savings. Especially if the column does well—”

“Which it will,” he told her.

“You think so?”

“Right up there with Nellie Bly’s.”

Lily’s mouth curved up, and he realized her stunning change of plans was in fact reality.

“Anyhow,” she went on, “I was thinking we could find an apartment of our own in the city, near a park and other families. Perhaps with space for a table to hold a typewriter by a window, where we could even hang a planter box.” She suddenly stopped and motioned back and forth between them. “I didn’t mean we, we—I meant ‘we’ as in… Never mind.” She looked away, her skin going flush.

“Lily.” When she didn’t turn, he reached as far as he was able, and guided her face back toward him. As their eyes held, he said, “It’s a perfect plan.”

A slow smile moved over her lips, which were just as perfect. Like everything about her. Then she covered his hand on her cheek, and leaning toward him, she pressed her mouth to his. The kiss was long, tender, and warm, and as she drew away, he felt genuinely thankful for every blessed mistake and pang of regret that had ever led him right here to her.

“Mommy!” The voice came only a second before Samuel sprinted into the room and over to Lily.

Her mother arrived at the doorway directly after. “Samuel Ray Palmer, I told you not to disturb them.”

“But he needs my gift. To make him feel better.”

Ellis assured her, “It’s fine, Mrs. Palmer. Really.”

With a kind look, she nodded her approval and watched Samuel place an object on the bed.

“What’ve you got there, you rascal?” Ellis picked it up and studied the small towel, knotted and twisted into an indistinct blob. The kid was staring expectantly, eager for Ellis’s response. “This wouldn’t be…a rabbit, now would it?”

Samuel nodded with zeal, highlighted by his dimples.

How? Lily mouthed to Ellis, clearly perplexed over how he managed to decipher its shape.

“It’s his favorite,” he reminded her, and her green eyes glimmered.

“Will he be okay, Mommy?” Samuel asked in a near whisper.

“He sure will, sugar bug.” Then Lily kissed her son’s forehead and slid Ellis a gentle smile. We all will, she seemed to say.