Twisted River Read online

  Winnie stuck out her tongue at Fred and after giving Reuben another squeeze, skipped off to the waiting motorcar. She climbed in beside her mother while Karl leaned over the Rambler’s hood, cranking it to life. When the engine caught, he straightened and caught sight of the others as they approached the auto.

  “Well, I say, if it isn’t the prodigal son returned! Fröhliche Weihnachten.” He and Reuben clasped hands with equal pleasure. “Wonderful to see you again, son. What brings you out this way at midnight?”

  Reuben released Karl’s hand and readjusted his satchel, an item Tena found odd he would carry to mass. Upon a quick visual check, she found his entire appearance a bit of a mystery. He owned more sophisticated suits, so why would he select such a poor one for church? It didn’t even match. The newspaper must be running him ragged.

  “I considered what you told me, Mr. Kisch,” Reuben said. “You were correct about most of it, and a man doesn’t appreciate being called out when he’s foolish. So, I’m moving out of the Vines’.”

  Emil’s jaw dropped. “You’re ditching Hazel?”

  “I am not,” Reuben corrected. “I simply think your father was right. I shouldn’t be living so close to her; it invokes temptation, and being alone will give me time to think things through.”

  Karl clasped Reuben’s shoulder. “Good for you, son.”

  “Thanks for still thinking of me as your son. I’ve acted like a poor sod over the past months. I’d sorely like to make things right between us again.”

  “Christmas dinner.” Karl nodded. “That will make it right.”

  Reuben shook his head. “I promised that to Miss Vine, and I think I should keep my promise.”

  “Breakfast then. Bring your Fräulein with you.”

  “That I believe I can do.” Reuben approached Tena then, just as she had begun to wonder if the entire family had forgotten her existence. “Will you allow me to escort you home? Or would you prefer to take the auto and we’ll speak tomorrow?”

  Reuben held a hand out to her with the sorriest eyes she had ever seen. Or rather quite a lot sorrier than she had seen him since the night she found him huddled on the floor in the midst of a massive breakdown over her sister. With a face like that he could never keep her off for too long, especially if he succumbed to his usual chivalry.

  She slipped her arm through his. “I believe I’ll walk tonight.”

  “Oi, no,” Emil groaned. He kicked the auto’s rear wheel and pointed at Friedrich with a most inappropriate finger. “You are not sticking me with Mr. Killjoy on the ride home. I’m walking too.”

  Karl gripped his son’s collar and pushed him towards the open motorcar. “Stop this nonsense. You are brothers. Find some common ground.”

  “Fat chance of that.” Emil folded his arms with a scowl now directed back at Reuben. “It’s awfully late to walk alone. What if you’re mugged?”

  “As if some scrawny kid like you could protect them,” Fred scoffed. He gave a snort and squeezed himself into the back of the Rambler behind his mother and sister.

  “Scrawny?” Emil yelped. “I’ll show you who’s scrawny. Get out here and back up your fat mouth.”

  “Emil, enough!” Karl shoved his youngest son towards the auto. “Inside now and not another word.”

  Fred scooted over to make room on the bench. “She’s safe with Reuben. For pity’s sake, Emil, cut your squirrelly nose out of their business.”

  Emil pointed a finger at Reuben as he stepped up into the motorcar. An odd warning poised in his gesture. “Nothing will happen.”

  Tena waited until the doors were secured to speak again. “I swear they are all acting stranger by the day. Completely overprotective of me.”

  “Is it so terrible to care?” Reuben asked.

  “There is such a thing as caring too much.”

  They waved as the Kischs pulled away from the curb. The Rambler rounded the corner and disappeared. Alone at last, she thought, with the one person she hadn’t been alone with in months. She savored the warmth emanating through Reuben’s overcoat as they started down Lynch Street. “Karl and Elsa think I tried to do myself in at the Basin,” she explained. “So they’ve decided to guard me like a porcelain statue. They think I’ll break if they push too far too soon. I didn’t want to take my own life, you know.”

  “I know.”

  They walked the next several blocks in silence. Between the moon and the street lamps, they had all the light they required. Their feet crunched in the packed snow on the walk while breath fogged around their faces.

  “Well, Reuben,” she said finally, as they turned onto Lemp Avenue. “Let’s not pretend you didn’t ask to walk me home for a reason.”

  “I want you to promise me that you won’t linger too long over Charles.”

  “Reuben, what ...?”

  He paused in the light of the next street lamp. “If you see Charles again like you did in the Grand Basin, promise you’ll walk the other way. Don’t keep him alive, not in that way. It isn’t worth it.” His eyes darted into the corners of the dark. He was scared; she could feel it.

  “It won’t happen to me how your sister did to you. I promise I won’t see him again.”

  “You can’t promise that. Madness isn’t something you plan. It just happens.”

  Tena edged closer, gently prodding him on down the walk. She had heard the story of his affliction from Maggie at the same time her sister spilled every other one of his secrets. Owning those truths had led to many intimate conversations during the first months she and Reuben were in St. Louis and a deep-seated friendship she would never trade. One she hoped she now had back.

  “Seeing Charles was a byproduct of the cold and lack of air. I was about to drown, Reuben. People see what they most want when they’re on death’s doorstep.”

  “That’s what Charles said too.”

  She pulled to an abrupt stop. “Pardon me, but what did you say?”

  Reuben ran a hand through his hair and urged her onwards, his pace speeding up with the rate of his words. “I promised myself I wouldn’t tell you yet about the night Charles sent me back from my grave. That’s how I learned he had died. He appeared in my dream limbo and sent me back for you. You were standing on a house porch, dressed all in black, but more beautiful than I had ever seen you. You told me then that I reminded you to have hope. I swore I’d wait to tell you until Charles’s specter wasn’t hanging over our heads, when you were no longer in mourning and finally able to wear the bright colors that lighten your hair and sparkle in your eyes. I guess I broke that promise, didn’t I?”

  “I had no idea,” she whispered. Even in death, Charles was always looking out for them, saving them, telling them to hang on and have hope. The world hadn’t stopped. The living world didn’t end no matter how many times your personal world felt like it had.

  She managed a half laugh. “We’re so alike, aren’t we? We both see Charles when we fall in freezing water.”

  He returned her nervous laughter, finally slowing his pace as they approached the Kischs’. She could have walked forever with him; there was so much more to say and far too long since they spoke so openly. She wouldn’t force him, though. If this was the first step towards fully restoring their friendship, she wouldn’t push him where he didn’t yet wish to go.

  Reuben released her arm and readjusted his satchel strap again. “Goodnight, Tena. I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast. If I’m lucky, Hazel will be with me.”

  Tena lifted her lip halfway in question. “Are you truly moving out of her home?”

  “I think it’s for the best, don’t you? It’ll provide some perspective. They tell me absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “Then you should have this.” Before she could think twice, she reached behind her neck and unclasped a length of chain which she pulled from beneath her dress. A simple gold band slid off the end and she could almost hear Reuben’s heart skip as she laid it in his hand. She couldn’t worry about his discomfort. He
r mind was made up. She had taken the first step to healing that evening at mass. The second step was letting go of Charles one small piece at a time. She just couldn’t let the pieces go too far.

  “Charles’s wedding ring,” she explained. He turned the ring over in his palm. “The Kischs never knew I had it. I never showed it to them. I think you should have it now though. I think that’s what Charles would have wanted.”

  “What about Emil?” he stuttered. “Or Fred?”

  “He didn’t visit them in a dream, did he? He came back for you.”

  “You believe that it was really Charles then? Not my insane imagination?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Reuben stared at the ring between his fingers and then ran the heel of his palm across his eyes.

  “I want you to use it when you marry,” Tena continued. “More so, I want you to know you have my blessing with Hazel. When you told me you were serious with her, at first it hurt terribly. The wound of Charles was still so fresh ... but the truth is I’ve always wanted every good thing for you. So, why not this, the happiest of all things? If you love Hazel and want to marry her, then you should. She’s lovely, and I will be so very pleased if you do.”

  His eyes remained glued to the ring, “You would?”

  “That girl is mad about you. The way she rants you’d think you had kisses made of pure gold.” She chuckled. “Luella and Phoebe are beyond jealous.” His eyes still hadn’t raised and his frown only deepened at her words. “You needn’t worry. Hazel’s nothing like Maggie. There isn’t a chance she’ll say no.”

  Finally, he slid the band onto his right hand and lifted his gaze. “Can’t have her thinking I’m assuming too much before I even ask, now can we?” He clasped her hands and then pressed them to his lips with a smile. “Thank you, Tena. Happy Christmas.”

  “For the man who helped save my life, it’s the least I can do.” His close proximity warmed the night, his breath smelling of tobacco and coffee. Tendrils of his russet hair fluttered in the breeze and she had never been more thankful to God and to Charles who would save this man so they could be together this Christmas. No parents for either of them and no siblings, but they had the Kischs and they had each other. Reuben returned to her exactly as Maggie said he would.

  “Happy Christmas, Reuben,” she said with a squeeze of his hands. “Promise you won’t drift too far.”

  Beep, bee..bee, beep.

  A black Model T pulled up to the curb, horn blasting despite the late hour. The driver reached across the seat and threw open the passenger side door, bracing his hand against the cushion. “Get in, Miss Archer,” he called.

  “Who in the world?” Reuben positioned himself in front of Tena and bent to catch the man’s identity. A cool frown crossed his lips. “Mr. Frye? Are you not supposed to be in Utah?”

  “Hugo Frye?” Tena leaned around Reuben, astonished when she saw Hugo’s frazzled expression, his hair as rumpled as the pajama bottoms visible beneath his overcoat. “It’s nearly three in the morning, Mr. Frye. Whatever are you doing here?”

  “Whose vehicle is this?” Reuben bit out before the man could respond. “Last I checked you didn’t have the funds for a new auto.”

  “I haven’t time for inane questions,” Hugo burst out. His fingers kneaded the passenger seat’s supple leather. “I borrowed the motorcar from my neighbor and, not that it’s your concern, but I was in Utah. Circumstances dictated I return early.”

  “What circumstances are those?”

  “Reuben.” Tena stepped between him and the open door, a warning in her gaze. He had his legs braced and hands clenched like he was ready to have a go at the poor man, and for what reason she couldn’t fathom. “Go home, Reuben. I can handle this.”

  “No.”

  Tena blew out a hot breath and turned back to Hugo. Reuben lingered beyond her left shoulder. “My apologies, Mr. Frye. I’m afraid Mr. Radford is rather tired. We’ve only just returned from midnight mass and—”

  “The baby is coming. Maggie asked for you.”

  She grabbed the edge of the door frame. “The baby? She has?”

  Hugo shifted until his face was visible in the dim light from the street lamp. A five o’clock shadow wrapped his goatee and above that, his eyes swam with an anxious father’s plea. “Yes. Of course she did.”

  Tena’s heart pounded. She thought she had come to terms tonight at mass. She thought if she made peace with God then maybe she could forgive her sister. But she hadn’t planned it would be tonight. She figured she would have days to perfect exactly what to say. Now here she was with only a stranger’s word and no time left to prepare.

  “I should send Elsa. She’s done this before ...” Tena turned away, but Hugo caught her hand before she could remove it from the door frame.

  “She asked for you.”

  “Are they in danger?” Reuben asked in alarm.

  With a shudder, Hugo released Tena and moved back into his seat. “I haven’t any idea. We can’t afford a doctor.”

  Thoughts flooded Tena’s mind, a jumble she couldn’t untie without a proper night’s sleep, and one that if she stepped in that motorcar, she wouldn’t manage anytime soon. Seeing her sister after five months not speaking ... and in such a vulnerable state as childbirth … with a new little niece or nephew to remind Tena again of lost dreams with Charles ... was now the right time to beg forgiveness or to give it? It was Christmas after all—the time for miracles.

  A terrible realization lodged in her chest like a painful bout of heartburn. There was no wonder for the haggard appearance on Reuben’s face, as though experiencing a nightmare when he wasn’t even asleep. Surely he had already figured what she only now realized. If Maggie met Hugo in June, then the baby was early. Far too early. One miracle that wouldn’t be.

  Forget planning what she would say to her sister. She would become a master of improvisation.

  She pressed a flustered kiss to Reuben’s cheek. “Tell Karl and Elsa I’ll ring when the baby’s here.” Without an answer, he pulled her into his arms and squeezed her to his chest. His lips found her temple twice before releasing her towards the auto.

  Accepting Hugo’s hand, Tena folded herself into the passenger seat and yanked the door closed.

  TWENTY-NINE

  The first labor pain felt like an awful intestinal cramp. In fact, that’s what Maggie originally thought it was. She crept to the toilet an hour after falling asleep, tiptoeing around Hugo’s sleeping form and down the stairs. After thirty minutes without relief, she brewed an extra dark pot of Earl Grey and drank three cups straight. By the time she finished the final one, she realized the horrible sensations were not from eating tainted beef and could barely see through tears of pain.

  Returning to bed, she laid back while her insides ached and sweat soaked clear through her nightgown into the bedsheets. Her teeth clenched against a moan as every inch of her body tensed from ribcage to pelvis. You musn’t panic, she repeated. If Mother could do this, so can you.

  Another hour passed and still she couldn’t force herself to wake Hugo. He slept so soundless, curled on his side like a little boy, one lock of hair flat across his forehead. But what was to be her other option? Give birth while he slept below her? She had no education on the process and what if the child was stillborn? It wasn’t yet time, that much she knew even if she couldn’t pinpoint the exact date to expect the child. A doctor could probably have calculated it down to the hour, if only she had bothered to visit one. If only she wasn’t always so stubborn and careless.

  At least the baby continued moving. Kicking so strong and so often that she wondered if her excessive tea intake was actually poison, and the child was slowly drowning in its own fluid.

  In between painful fits she slept and in dreams waited the same mysterious stranger from Shaw’s Garden.

  He appeared in a prestigious townhouse which overlooked the entirety of London. The windows of a well-kept parlor opened onto a luscious park, vibrant trees of green
rustling in the breeze while pedestrians prattled by. Maggie crouched within the room’s cupboard, and when the doors flung open, she met blue eyes the color of the summer’s sky. The stranger’s hands reached down to guide her from her hiding place.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “Why do I continue to dream of you?”

  “Let me show you.” In the squeeze of his hand, the room dissolved, melting like watercolors on a canvas. Hand in hand they traveled through the haze, nothing entirely distinguishable from anything else. With another wave of his hand, violet blossoms floated from above in a glorious display—the elongated petals of her mystery flower.

  “Look at it, Magdalena.” He spread a palm across the sky. “Look at this world I created for you exactly as you asked.” A violet haze engulfed her, petals falling from the clouds to bury her beneath them. He held her in place even as she scrambled to escape.

  “Please!” she screamed. “I’m not who you think. I’m not Magdalena!”

  Her fingers stretched upward, grasping at empty air. She would suffocate in a sea of flowers and her child would never even experience its first breath. Moaning, she pressed a hand to her middle and came up empty. The fabric of her dress hung loose.

  “Where is she?” she cried. “Where’s my baby?” Her lips parted, only screaming required air of which she now had none. Only flowers. Flowers and the final words of a mysterious dark-haired visitor.

  “You can’t escape who you are, Magdalena. It’s a part of you, the same as it was a part of me.”

  Maggie’s eyes shot open, one hand at the collar of her damp nightgown. She stared at the ceiling, and the beat of her heart could have kept pace with the racehorses of Aintree. Logic told her dreams were no indication of reality, except that Reuben’s dreams had been. He learned of Charles’s death when in an unconscious state and upon waking found it to be so.

  She anxiously kneaded her stomach, certain the anonymous dream menace managed to kill her child while she slept. “Be there,” she whispered. “Please kick me into next Friday.”