Twisted River Page 11

  “No one asked you, Emil,” Maggie spat back. “If you must know, I’m nervous because I’m getting married tomorrow.”

  A room couldn’t be any more silent if it was buried ten feet underground, filled floor to ceiling with mud, and sealed with cement. Elsa and Karl stared like she grew an extra appendage, and Maggie rubbed her neck to make sure there wasn’t something amiss. One head, two hands ... not counting the ones belonging to the creature slowly invading her body. No, everything seemed in order. Minus Tena, whose fingers clenched her book’s edges.

  Finally, Emil tossed his book in the air, allowing it to clatter to the floor. “Are you kidding me?” He jumped up, ran into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of cooking sherry, popping the top open and taking a hearty swig.

  “Emil Kisch!” Elsa leapt from the sofa, the flab on her arms swinging as she yanked the bottle out of his hands. “That is not for drinking.”

  “Aw, seriously, Mama. After the funeral, Papa banned me from the good stuff.” He gestured flat palmed at Maggie still sitting on the sofa. “Maggie’s getting married. Aren’t we supposed to celebrate?”

  “What are we celebrating?” Winnie asked as she entered the room, drawing notebook tucked under her arm and pencils in hand. She flipped her blonde braid off her shoulder and plopped down on the sofa in Emil’s vacated seat.

  Emil jabbed a thumb at Maggie. “Her wedding.”

  Winnie’s jaw literally dropped a full inch. She hopped back up and threw her arms around Maggie, dropping to the sofa beside her with a squeal. “How brilliant! Who stole your heart?”

  Maggie swallowed hard. Well, she had lit the explosive, she may as well distribute the shrapnel accordingly. “Hugo Frye.”

  Karl folded his paper. “The photographer? Did you not meet him only last week?”

  Maggie bit her lip and with a talent that came as naturally as breathing, began weaving her tale. “Last month actually. I went to the Mid-Mississippi to speak with Reuben about ... well, everything that has happened. To apologize. Mr. Frye was dropping off some photographs. He invited me to luncheon, and he was such a lovely man that I accepted. We’ve been courting ever since.”

  “Oh, how lovely!” Winnie gushed. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Yes, why?” Tena’s voice made Maggie wince even though she had barely raised her tone. Yet even in the silence, her accusation was deafening.

  “We’re in mourning,” Maggie explained. “Mr. Frye suggested it might be inappropriate to announce a courtship given the circumstances.”

  Elsa crushed her then in another embrace so her soft cheek effectively cut off Maggie’s view of Tena’s response. “Oh, my dear, I am pleased for you. It is wonderful to be a wife.” She sniffed hard, reaching up to wipe a tear from her eye. “Oh, mir leid. It is almost as though my own daughter is marrying.”

  Karl pulled her away. “For goodness sakes, liebe. It is not as though she is off to war.” He rested a hand on Elsa’s shoulder with a frown. “I do not care for the hasty manner of this marriage, Maggie. Still, I am not your father. If you have set your mind upon it, there is little I can say to delay you.”

  The usual tears spurred at mention of her father. Even for a marriage of convenience, Maggie would have given anything for Laurence Archer to give her away. She stared Mr. Kisch down. “No, sir. I’m afraid Mr. Frye and I are in agreement.”

  With only the briefest nod, Karl turned back to his wife. “Elsa, fetch a bottle of the good wine from the stash. Our son said we should celebrate, so we shall.”

  Emil crossed his arms with a haughty grin and dropped himself backwards across the other sofa. “I’m sorry, Pop. Can you repeat that? I believe you actually agreed with me.”

  Karl pointed towards the kitchen. “Emil, make yourself useful and serve up some of your mother’s leftover cake.”

  “We can serve it.” Tena stood with a warm smile. “Come along, Maggie.” Unable to maintain premise, Maggie followed.

  Retrieving a server from the drawer near the sink, Tena moved the leftover Zuckerkuchen to the table and began slicing.

  “We’re celebrating my upcoming wedding with funeral cake?” Maggie exclaimed. Appropriate, she thought, but still ... a bit macabre. She lifted a stack of plates from the cabinet and set them on the table.

  “Actually,” Tena explained, “Germans serve it for both occasions. Joy and Sorrow Cake, they call it.” She cast a glance over her shoulder. “Close the door.“

  Maggie swung the kitchen door shut and rejoined her sister after retrieving a stack of forks from the drawer. Visible tension lined Tena’s jaw as she sliced through the cake. “Spill, Tena. Something’s bothering you.”

  Tena set the server down and took a measured breath. “Tell me something truthfully. Is Mr. Frye the first man you’ve entertained since the Höllenfeuer? No others?”

  “Of course.” Maggie frowned. “You don’t believe me though.”

  “I’m not sure what to believe. As long as I’ve known you, you never wanted to be a wife. You mocked me for wanting it. And now ... well, I can’t say I’m not pleased to hear you weren’t with half the city after all, except you’ve only just met Mr. Frye. What do you even know about him?”

  “I know that he seems kind and he manages his own business. His photographs are beautiful. He’s attractive—”

  Tena’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. “If you’re going to lie about anything, don’t lie about that. His crimson hair, attractive? It’s always a mess. He doesn’t exactly keep his clothing in tip-top shape. And my word, is he petite.”

  “Not terribly so.” Although a blush rose in her cheeks knowing that she had thought all the same things about him. “He has kind eyes.” There, she thought, that much was true.

  Tena’s own eyes widened. “At the funeral he mentioned children to me. Did you even consider that you’ll be their stepmother now?”

  “Don’t say the word stepmother as if I fit in some fairy tale.” Maggie roiled. “He may not be what you expected, but he’ll take care of me.”

  “Since when do you need someone else to take care of you? You’ve always done that on your own. What happened to independent Maggie? Fierce Maggie?”

  “Sometimes people change, Tena. Sometimes they have to.”

  “Why do you have to? You hide your relationship for a month, and then suddenly you’re married? It’s suspicious.”

  “How is it any different than what you did to me?”

  “What are you talking about?” Tena jammed the server into the cake, sliced it lengthwise, and removed another sliver.

  “Charles courted you for over a year and you hid it from everyone including me.”

  Tena waved the server in Maggie’s face. “That is not the same at all. Mother stole my letters to you. If you had received them, they would have explained everything.” She served another piece of cake, stabbing it with the fork that lay beside it. “Besides, how do you think this makes me feel, you married instead of me?”

  “I didn’t mean it as a snub.”

  Tena slammed the server on the table and pressed her palms to the wood breathlessly. “Tell me what Father wrote to you.”

  Maggie stepped back. “Pardon?”

  Tena kept her palms to the table and her gaze on the cake. “You’ve kept his letter to yourself since April. I thought if I brought the letter to you unopened as a gesture of good faith then surely you would allow me to read it. You still haven’t.”

  Maggie retreated another step as though her sister would grab the server and stab her with it. “Tena, what’s this really about?”

  “You swore before we came here that the secrecy would end. You promised.”

  “I’ve been honest! I told you what happened with Reuben and even with Lloyd. I didn’t want to share that with you, but I did.”

  “I know you did. And as difficult as it was to hear, I was glad for the truth. But with this engagement, I can’t help but feel that the story wasn’t fully told. So tell me, Maggie,
what was in the letter?”

  “That’s private.” Maggie couldn’t tell her. Tena would insist they write to Mother and further alter their lives all for the sake of integrity. Sometimes the appearance of truth was more important than the truth itself.

  “I was the only one who didn’t receive some special parting words. Father spoke to Reuben in person and he wrote to you. What did he give me?”

  “Tena, you know Father loved you. You were with him in the end; you were everything he needed.” Cautiously, she slid her arm around her sister’s shoulders.

  Tena quieted then. “He preferred you.”

  “Playing favorites?” Maggie turned Tena by the shoulders, only her sister refused to meet her gaze. “Father would never do that. If one of us was the disappointment to him, it was me. You did everything our parents ever asked of you, minus Charles, but even Father would have been proud to call him a son.”

  Tears sprang to Tena’s eyes. She shook her head and jerked away from Maggie, grabbing the server, and dropping it. It clattered off the table edge onto the floor. She bent for it, but Maggie wrapped her arms around Tena and everything dissolved in that embrace. Her sister wanted to remain angry; she wanted to scream and yell and stomp her feet. Anger comforted more than despair. There were so few mistakes in Maggie’s life she had ever truly felt remorse over, but every one involved her sister.

  Maggie wanted Tena to slap her across the face, so hard her ears rang, but knew she wouldn’t. Instead, tears washed down Tena’s cheeks. She buried her face in her sister’s shoulder and didn’t say any of the hateful things Maggie deserved.

  “Don’t go,” Tena sobbed. “Please don’t marry him. You can continue seeing him, but please don’t marry him yet. Not now. I need you.”

  “You tossed me out of the house.”

  “I didn’t mean it. You know I never mean half of what I say when I’m cross. I forgive too easily. I thought you left me alone when Father died, and I still took you back.”

  Maggie’s hand paused halfway through stroking Tena’s hair. Hope surged anew. Tena forgave her. Tena needed her, and she needed Tena. Together, they could manage. If there was ever a time to tell the truth it was now.

  “Tena?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m having a baby.”

  A sob escaped her sister, muffled against Maggie’s shoulder. “You are?” she whispered.

  “I am.”

  “So, the sickness makes sense now.” It wasn’t a heartfelt congratulations, but this wasn’t exactly a situation to be proud of. Yet at least, unlike Reuben, Tena actually believed her. That was really all she could hope for until the shock wore off.

  Maggie exhaled, squeezing Tena tightly. “You can’t fathom how glad I am that you finally know.” Tena remained silent for a moment so long Maggie finally pulled away. Her sister’s golden eyes smoldered.

  She wrenched out of Maggie’s grip. “Marry him tomorrow,” she spat.

  “But you said—”

  “Forget what I said. If you’re having his child, you should marry him.”

  “But I don’t want to. I’ll stay with you. You need me. We need each other.”

  Snatching the server up, Tena washed it off in the sink, spraying the counter with water. Groaning, she dropped the server into a drawer and vigorously attacked the counter with a hand towel. “You don’t need me.”

  Maggie turned off the water and braced a hip against the sink. “Yes, I do. You’re my sister.”

  Tena threw the damp towel on the counter where it landed with a sharp thwack. “When we were children perhaps, but not anymore.”

  “That’s not true. I’m here, aren’t I? I came to St. Louis because your fiancé asked me to.”

  “No one makes your decisions for you. You decided to go to London without telling me and you left me on Titanic. Go anywhere you want, Maggie. Be with any man or as many men as you desire. I doubt marriage will stop you from throwing it around.”

  “How could you suggest that? I would never be unfaithful to my husband.”

  “In the way you weren’t unfaithful to Reuben?”

  “He wasn’t my husband.”

  Tena’s hands sank to her hips, water dripping down her skirt. “Do whatever you want, Maggie. It’s what you’ve always done. But please, don’t bother telling me anymore when you do it.”

  Maggie stepped forward, thunderstruck, her entire body shaking. “I said I was sorry for not being there when Father died. I meant it. How long are you going to lord my mistakes over me?”

  Tena’s eyes darkened. “Until you stop making them.”

  Juggling dessert plates, she stalked into the living room where she laid them across the coffee table. Ignoring the stares of everyone, she walked upstairs and slammed her bedroom door.

  It felt like the door had been closed on Maggie’s heart.

  ~~~

  Tena stared at the bedroom ceiling, unable to sleep, roiling with a heat so intense her ears literally burned from it. At least she had maintained her temper since opening that vile canvas bag. Anger was a constant these days.

  She squeezed her eyes closed as the bedroom door slowly opened and someone walked in. Maggie, judging by the soft footsteps. Winnie was not nearly so polite with her eleven-year-old horse hooves. Then again, polite wasn’t usually the word to describe Maggie either.

  When the steps came to rest beside the bed, Tena involuntarily stiffened, wishing she hadn’t moved back in with Maggie after only two nights with Emil. Her sister had shared a room with her long enough to know when Tena was feigning sleep, but she didn’t say anything or nudge Tena’s shoulder with her palm. When they were children, Maggie would throw pillows at Tena’s face then jump on her bed, bouncing the mattress and screaming, “Wake up! Wake up! Breakfast is ready!” But breakfast was never ready when Tena bounded from bed. Disappointment with Maggie began at a young age.

  But tonight there was no palmed shoulder, no bouncing bed, and no merciless squeals. The footsteps moved away followed by the scraping of a traveling case against the wooden floorboards. Maggie filled it with the few belongings she had and sighed. With a click of the latches and a final click of the door latch, Tena released a breath and opened her eyes, the now empty room swimming around her. On her pillow lay a handwritten note.

  Maggie’s going to be a mother, she thought. She’s going to become round and plump and beautiful with baby. A baby that looks like her, like me, like our parents. And like Mr. Frye. Maggie’s husband.

  Maggie has a husband. Could the world be any more unfair?

  Tena leapt from bed, snatching the note from the coverlet as she stalked to the window and without reading a word, shredded the contents.

  Of all the secrets her sister could keep, of all the things she could have said, of all the dreams Maggie could steal from her, this was the absolute worst. Tena silenced her thoughts before she could change her mind and talk reason into herself. She had lost her fiancé, her best friend, and the future she planned on for so long. Maggie stole it all in order to keep it for herself. She held everything Tena wanted in her perfect little hands, held it aloft so there was no way Tena could ever hope to reach it. All she could do was watch her sister enjoy everything she didn’t deserve.

  Tena would rather have no sister at all.

  She threw up the sash, where it slammed against the top pane with a satisfying crash. Palm extended, she blew the torn scraps from her fingers into the night. They swirled on the breeze, over the front garden and the black taxi Maggie stepped into. Slamming the window, Tena returned to the comfort of her bedcovers, not bothering to watch her sister ride out of sight.

  Out of sight and out of her life.

  TWELVE

  July 19, 1912 –

  The following day

  Maggie joined the flow of people through the front doors of the courthouse, one hand clinging to her traveling case and the other to her handbag with none left to hold her independence. In a little over an hour, she would enter in
to a business arrangement for seven years, and she must continue to view it as such. It was a marriage, yes, but how was a marriage defined, truly? By definition, a marriage was simply a formal agreement legally binding the assets of two parties together, blending two ways of thinking for the collective benefit of both. It was hardly different from the agreement Mr. Frye entered into when he established his studio with Damaris, two parties working towards a shared goal.

  She supposed it would be a never-ending battle now between her and Damaris. What Maggie did to earn the woman’s disdain after saving her from Donovan’s fists was anybody’s guess. Betrothal to her brother must have been enough.

  The night before, unable to face the Kischs once Tena told them about the baby, Maggie rang Hugo. Without any questions, he summoned a taxi with instructions for her to stay the night at Damaris’s apartment and that there would be no issues.

  Except that when Maggie stepped into the third floor corridor of Damaris’s building, the woman was on the telephone in heated discussion with her brother. “I’ll do it for you, Hugo,” she rasped into the mouthpiece, “but you’re running out of favors.” There was a long pause before spitting back, “I don’t care if tomorrow is your wedding day or your funeral—frankly with that girl it’s one and the same ... Don’t argue with me, Hugh. You’re thirty-three. She’s practically a baby.”

  Damaris turned her back on Maggie in a failed attempt to stand closer to the mouthpiece. “You owe me, Hugo. Between Emma and now this ... You owe me more than you know.” Dropping the receiver back into the cradle, she sauntered to the second door on the left and waved an arm in the air. “You get one night here, sweet-cheeks. Tomorrow you’d better marry my brother or find yourself another place to squat.”

  Maggie entered the apartment’s perfectly arranged living room only to receive a slam in her face from the bedroom door.

  Now standing in the center of the courthouse rotunda with people spilling into and out of its four identical exits, she stared straight up into the room’s massive dome. Four floors above, the mid-day sun fell from the lone window at the dome’s center, pouring around her in a perfect circle as though she stood at the bottom of a well too slick to climb and too deep to be heard.