Page 119 of The Deadly Candies

Kathy Sweets, Harlem 1949

“Can we talk?” Ely asked quietly.

Kathy ignored him. Instead, she gave Mrs. Crane a cheerful smile, carefully handing over the order of fresh-baked bread. Ely sighed, clearly frustrated, but waited. As soon as Kathy turned to join Debbie and her mother at the counter, Ely swiftly took her by the hand. Before she could protest, he guided her firmly toward the one place he knew she couldn't easily escape—the storage room.

“Ely, stop! Let me go! I said I don’t wanna—” Kathy’s protest was cut short when he gently but firmly nudged her inside and shut the door behind them. Her gaze darted upward toward the attic entrance before settling back on Ely, eyes blazing with fury. Surely, he had to know how much she dreaded coming back here—how raw the memories were.

Ely sighed, pacing restlessly in the cramped room before turning to face her. “Listen, I spoke with Debbie. I’ll do it.”

Kathy blinked, confused. “Do what?”

“You heard me,” Ely said firmly. “Debbie and José took your Pa and her father to Brooklyn—to the new house Matteo got for them. Did the whole tour. Her Pa was real proud of José, said Debbie. Put money in his hand for the renovations. Real proud.”

“Debbie didn’t mention?—”

“Well, she came straight to me with the whole plan,” Ely cut in gently. “She and José want us to stay with them at the Brooklyn place after the wedding. Especially since we’re due to leave the next day, she said your daddy agreed on the condition that his men are stationed discreetly in cars along the street—just in case word gets to Queens that you’re in Brooklyn.”

“It’s all arranged. José will handle it. I’ll slip out the back to Mama Stewart’s place and stay there quietly, so you and Carmelo can have your time. José and his boyfriend will stay there as well. Apparently, the three of them will hide when your dad does the walk-through. Debbie said they’ve got something special planned for you, and she needs me to help make things look legitimate for your folks.”

Kathy stared at him in disbelief. “Why would you ever agree to that?”

“Because I’ve got my own plan, Kathy—a plan to earn your friendship again,” Ely said, his voice earnest but firm. “You’ll return home with me. Back to Mississippi to take care of Big Mama. You’ll convince your parents it’s what you want, so your mom doesn’t blame your dad, and your family won’t fall apart. We start over, as friends. But you leave Harlem behind. That’s the deal.”

“I will never be yours, Ely,” Kathy said quietly, her voice tinged with sorrow.

He flinched visibly; hurt flashed briefly across his face. “Never say never, Kathy. I’m not forcing you into anything. This decision is yours alone. But ask yourself honestly—am I really the villain here, trying to keep you and your family from being gunned down by Italians? Or is Carmelo, knowing full well he’s making you risk something foolish, something dangerous, knowing he can’t protect you if things fall apart? Knowing he could get you killed.”

Kathy said nothing, eyes downcast.

Ely continued softly, stepping closer. “I love you, Kathy. I’m not gonna pretend otherwise. If friendship is all you can offer, fine. But I won’t risk my life, or risk war coming to Harlem, or endanger people I deeply respect here, just to keep you happy in this moment. I’ll do what you won’t. I’ll find a way for us to survive this mess.”

Without another word, Ely turned and left, the storage room door swinging closed behind him.

Kathy stood still for a long moment, trying to steady her breath. Slowly, she turned around, taking in the small, dim storage room. Without thinking, she moved crates under the attic’s ceiling door. Carmelo had taught her how to climb up independently, and she pulled down the old ladder.

She climbed carefully, heart heavy, expecting emptiness above. To her astonishment, everything she and Carmelo had left behind still remained—the blankets, books, even empty food cans. Kathy walked slowly through the attic, emotion swelling painfully in her chest. The window she and Carmelo had climbed through had been repaired, but her father hadn’t touched any of their belongings. Why? Hadn’t he hated their love? Why hadn’t he destroyed all evidence of it?

“Kathy?”

She turned sharply at her mother’s soft voice. Brenda’s head peeked cautiously through the open attic hatch. Kathy hurried to help as Brenda carefully stepped and climbed up to the attic floor, standing upright and brushing her skirt straight.

“Ma, what you doing up here?”

Brenda eyed her daughter closely, concerned but gentle. “I could ask you the same thing. I saw Ely pull you into that room and then storm out like he was on fire. Talk to me, baby. Henry’s been whispering all sorts of foolishness in my ear—that you and Ely are in love. Tell me the truth, Kathy. What’s going on?”

Kathy’s throat tightened painfully. She longed desperately for honesty, but had spun so many lies that the truth felt foreign. Taking a shaky breath, she stepped forward and hugged her mother close. “Ma, Ely wants me to go back to Mississippi with him.”

“What?” Brenda snapped immediately, eyes wide. “Absolutely not! You’re never going back there!”

“Ma, please?—”

“No! You think I want my daughter sharecropping, washing clothes for white folks? Throw away your future? All your education?” Brenda’s voice trembled, harsh and fierce with protective love.

Tears blurred Kathy’s vision. “One year, Ma. Just one more year. Then I come back home. Do you even talk to Daddy? Do you understand why he made me leave? Do you even try?”

Brenda’s brow furrowed deeply. “What you mean, Kathy?”

“Daddy’s in trouble, Ma. Real trouble—not like before with King Redmond, trouble that you and me handled. This is different. If I stay here, it breaks a truce between Bumpy and Luciano. That truce is all that’s keeping Carmelo’s father from killing Daddy and starting riots in Harlem. Daddy didn’t want me to leave. He had no choice.”

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