Flying Violets

Chapter 9

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Dinner was a delightful affair with Cappy and Lavinia Hudson making great dinner companions.   They both obviously loved their son to pieces, and would do anything for him.  It was amusing watching the bantering that went on between the three of them.  Cappy told stories of Island life and tales of the employees at the Oyster Plant.  Freddie regaled them with stories of our airshows and some of the mishaps that we nearly had.  They stared open mouthed at many of Freddie’s tales.  But true to his word, he didn’t speak of my eccentric self at dinner.  I was grateful that we kept the conversation on the personal yet impersonal.  I could tell that Freddie was oftentimes sidetracking them from asking any personal questions about my past or our time together. 

After dinner, we all retired to the front parlor where Eddie’s parents had a secret stash of port. 

“If it wasn’t for damn Prohibition I would have more of a selection.”  complained Cappy. 

“No this is perfect.”  I remarked with a smile.  “Damn Prohibition.”  I saluted holding my port up.  Freddie’s eyes popped and Cappy roared with laughter.

“Damn Prohibition” we all said again in unison, even Lavinia who looked a bit stunned at my outburst.

“I like this girl, Freddie.  You hold on to her.”  Cappy said. 

We talked of the good old times before Prohibition and then the War that changed everything while Cappy became tipsier and tipsier. 

“Papa and Mama I’m planning on taking Violet dancing since she’s all dolled up.” Freddie announced grabbing my hand. 

“Ya’ll have a good time and don’t keep Violet out too late now Freddie.”  Said Cappy trying to be fatherly even though his words were slurred.

“Come on Vi I know a great Juice Joint here on the island.”  He muttered under his breath.  “Hell I sure could use a smoke and some hooch.”

“Why Freddie, am I about to see your wild side.”  I teased. 

“As wild as you can get on this Island.”  He winked. 

I went upstairs and grabbed a wrap and hurried back down the stairs.  The old Model T truck was parked under an old oak tree and we headed over to it.  “We’ll take this jalopy so father can’t be traced back to the Joint.” 

The ride out to the speakeasy that was hidden away from the Revenue Men that might patrol the Island was uneventful.  A cool coastal breeze blew strands of my hair across my face and brought chills to my arms.  I pulled my wrap closer around me, and glanced up at the night sky.  A crescent moon was out and lit the sky with a luminescence that glistened on the palmetto leaves that we passed under on the dirt road.