The First Emma

by Di Maio, Camille

  “Come in.”

  She opened the door to see Buck looking dapper in a pair of pants with a long crease down the front of the leg, a sweater over a dress shirt, and a dinner jacket over his shoulders. She’d grown accustomed to the emptiness on his left side.

  He was straightening his tie in the mirror, but with some difficulty.

  “What are you wearing?” she asked. She adjusted the knot at his neck and smoothed the length of the tie. “Even before you had an Army uniform, you didn’t dress this swell.”

  “It’s all thanks to Erik. I’d mentioned how I only had the one uniform and he opened up his closet for me for the duration of my stay.”

  How chummy, she thought, pleased. Wisely, she decided not to press the point. But they must have gotten along well for that to occur.

  “What did you think of Pearl?”

  He lit up. It was so so good to have Buck here. So, so good to see him excited about something. She put the thought out of her mind that he had only six days left.

  “It’s a wonder! You’ve seen it, so you know. What a place. Erik took me through just about every room. We even meet up with Otto A. The head honcho himself. In fact, by the end, Otto A. offered me a job, should I ever want it.”

  Mabel clapped her hands, remembering that Erik had made the same offer. How could her brother refuse? “Oh, Buck. How wonderful! Would you ever do that?”

  He tucked the tie under the sweater, an easier feat with one hand. “You know, I think I would. I don’t think I’m made for the university the way Robert would have been. Otto A. showed me some of the things they’re already changing because of the war. They’re experimenting with cans that use less metal. And creating inexpensive brews that can be sent to the troops. Fascinating stuff. And he has so many plans for after this war is over. I want to be a part of that. What is there for me in Baltimore? You’re here and you look like you want to stay. And Lord knows that Erik fellow wants you to stay. I’ve never seen a boy quite as mad about a girl as that one is.”

  He said it so endearingly. The thought of Buck and Erik getting along was more than she could have hoped for.

  “You’ve never seen a girl quite as mad about a boy as this one is.” She nearly whispered it, testing his reaction.

  “Well, you’re both fools, if you ask me. But I’m happy to see you two fools together.”

  “There’s nothing foolish about love.”

  He turned around to face her and pulled a comb from his pocket, running it through his hair. “After all that I’ve seen, and all that I have yet to see, I’m glad to witness that love is still alive. Makes me think of Mama and Pops before she got sick.”

  She hung her head and nodded. “They were beautiful together.”

  He agreed. “That’s why he turned to the bottle. I don’t think he wanted to continue a life that didn’t include her.”

  “Do you—do you think we’ll ever find him?” she asked.

  He lowered his head and thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Before the war, I might have tried to promise you hope. But life doesn’t always work that way. It has an ugly side. I want to, of course. But maybe that’s selfish. Maybe seeing us would remind him of her and it would be more than he could bear. Maybe drinking keeps him warm even as the weather is cold. Maybe he’s already gone. Passed on to the next life where they’re frolicking in a field of lavender for all I know. But I promise you this: don’t let your days be full of worry. Live them in spite of the rest. Don’t let your happiness depend on someone else’s decisions.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “That will be your man, Sis. Check the mirror. You’ve got a smudge on your lipstick and you haven’t even kissed him yet today.”

  What a sport! No matter what happened, she would treasure this conversation with Buck. Adult to adult. He no longer seemed like a big brother to her. Not when she’d lived as much life as she had. But he was a friend now. The very best friend.

  She flew down the stairs, straight into Erik’s arms as he stood in the open threshold.

  The applause began as a roar as the cast took their final bows. Mabel was among the first to hop to her feet. This performance had been even better than the first. And their seats had been amazing once again. She could nearly see the pores on the faces of the actors and actresses. The reflection of the lights on their sweat-kissed skin. She could see the details of the painting she and Erik had done: every streak in the tail of the horse. She’d begun to understand why Erik loved theater so much. It was a chance to create another world. To be encompassed by it. To forget what lay on the outside of these walls, if only for a few hours.

  Encouraged by the story about the new statehood of Okla-homa, Mabel began to believe in new beginnings. Erik sat to her left, Buck to her right. She’d had nothing for so long and now she had nearly everything.

  Erik wanted to linger after to visit with some of his friends, and asked Mabel if she could stay so that he could introduce her to those she hadn’t met yet. He tossed his keys to Buck. “Take her for a spin,” he said. “We’ll meet you back at the house.”

  Buck was all too eager. He’d agreed with Mabel that Robert would have loved it. Flashing, unassuming Robert had always longed for a great car. His one nod to adventure. Buck and Mabel would have to live that one out for him.

  The hellos and goodbyes didn’t take long. The members of the cast had plans to move the party to a nearby dance hall. Some of the girls particularly pled with Erik to join them, but he held onto Mabel’s hand even tighter and insisted that he was looking forward to a private evening. But they would find four cases of Pearl Beer in the green room to assist in their celebrations. He left them all to their merriment.

  With Buck away in the car, Erik and Mabel strolled the few blocks, taking far longer than it should have. The night was beautiful. A late February evening could almost have been springtime. The stars were out in abundance, seeming like they were hung just for them.

  Erik put his arm around her as they walked. “What are you thinking, love?”

  She stretched out her arms and lay her head against his chest. “I’m content. Is that an odd word to use? I don’t know. But I don’t know how else to say it. I’m so very content.”

  “Just that? Not happy?”

  She thought about that word before answering. “It’s better than that. Happy is a temporary feeling. You can’t know happiness without knowing sadness. So to have one, you know the other is coming again. Content is different. It says that I know there will be ups and downs in the road, but I am going to stay grounded either way. It says that I’m very grateful to be right here in this place.”

  “I like that. Then I’m content, too.”

  Their steps plodded along, one slow foot in front of the other.

  Mabel spoke up. “Your aunt told me about your parents. I’m sorry about what happened to them. Has your father ever tried to see you again?”

  She tried to watch his face in the moonlight, but its shadows were too pronounced to make out his expression. His voice, however, was unflustered.

  “He’s written a few times. And three times, Auntie Emma has sent him funds for a passage to come over here. But with each one, he gambled them away, certain that he could make money on them and come over here a wealthy man instead of an indebted relative.”

  Mabel’s heart broke for him. “It’s funny, isn’t it, how sometimes our best lessons are learned by not emulating some people. Learning from their mistakes, I suppose. We can be thankful to them for that at least.”

  He pulled her in a little tighter. “I told you that I want to be a good man. It’s because of my father. He is a good man. He loved my mother so much. And I will always know how to care for a woman because of that. But I also learned from him the importance of avoiding vices. Because gambling stripped him of everything. And in the end if you truly love someone, you’ll put their needs above your own weakness. That’s how I want to love. And I learned that from what he didn’t do.”

>   “My brother likes you,” she said. “And he’s always been a good judge of character.”

  “I like him, too. You’re lucky to have each other. I don’t have any siblings. Only the menagerie of Auntie Emma’s relatives.”

  He stopped and turned toward her. They were standing at the intersection. Few cars were on the road at this late hour and the dome of the synagogue cast an ominous shadow over them.

  “Mabel,” he said slowly, “I wanted to finish that thought. About how I want to love. I’ve always thought of that as an ideal, but you put flesh to it. I want to love you that way. I know that it’s early. We haven’t known each other long. But maybe I’ve seen enough plays to have a romantic piece of me that believes two souls know when they’ve found each other.”

  “I love you, too,” she whispered. And she did.

  “I’m not asking for you to make any promises right now,” he said. “But I couldn’t let another day pass without letting you know how I feel.”

  “Your aunt will be so happy,” Mabel laughed.

  He pulled back. “How did you know?”

  “Know?”

  “Yes. About her little matchmaking endeavor. That’s what you were referring to, right?”

  She folded her arms. “Yes. But how did you know? Were you in on it?” This felt close to being maneuvered again, and despite where they’d ended up, she didn’t want to believe that they’d begun so artificially.

  He laughed. “No, no, no. Please don’t think that. I only got wind of it when she was looking through the applicants. I was at the house one afternoon when Helga retrieved the mail. And there were way more letters than usual. So I pressed her about it and she told me that Auntie Emma wanted to hire a girl to write down her life story. I thought it was a fine idea, but I watched as Helga opened the envelopes and there were photographs in there. Now who requires a photograph with a job application?”

  “That’s what I thought, too.”

  “See?” he said. “So I suspected that she was up to something else, and knowing her as I do, it wasn’t difficult to figure out. I could never get Helga to confirm it, mind you, but watching the two of them talk about the letters and pictures, I was fairly certain. So I made a point of being at the house as often as I could for a few days. Sneaking a look at the letters that came in. Tossing a few of them before they could get to Auntie Emma. But not so many that she’d notice.”

  “So you saw my letter and my photograph? Then you already knew who I was when we met at the pool.”

  He pulled her toward him, but she wasn’t quite ready to share the embrace. She didn’t know what to think.

  “No, darling. I had no idea. I hadn’t come across your envelope. To this day, I have never seen it. When we met at the pool, all I knew is that I was due to have dinner at the house and that Auntie Emma had told me that there was someone special she wanted me to meet. After meeting you, I was conflicted. I liked you so much. Immediately. But I wanted to be fair to Auntie Emma. She’d gone to great lengths on my behalf. That’s why I was late to dinner. I had been at the brewery, but I really lingered. I didn’t want to meet this girl she’d picked out for me. I’d already met the only one I wanted to know.”

  Such romantic words. She felt ashamed for having doubted him.

  “Oh, Erik. That was unfair of me to think otherwise. I’m sorry.” She put her arms around his waist and enjoyed the feeling of him kissing the top of her head.

  “Imagine my surprise, love, when I walked in the door and there you were. It was perfect. Auntie Emma has always known me so well, and here was the girl who both of us liked.”

  “So you see what I mean. She’ll be so happy.”

  “She will. I’m glad we can give her that.”

  They walked the final block to the Koehler house, arm in arm.

  As they approached, the knotty feeling returned. “Look, Erik. That’s Doctor Weaver’s car.”

  Erik quickened his pace. “It is. He wasn’t due to come until tomorrow. She must have taken a turn for the worse.”

  She matched his steps and they arrived at the porch in time to see Helga running out to meet them. “Oh, there you are. I was going to come looking for you. Mrs. Koehler is quite ill.”

  .

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  EMMA KOEHLER’S SENILITY came on like a storm. Her recognition of everyone faded, frustrating and frightening her. Doctor Weaver administered strong sedatives in response.

  “I wouldn’t give this to someone younger,” he told the worried bunch. “But at this point, it can only help her. Or at least keep her settled.”

  What began as an episode became a vigil. Mrs. Koehler’s consciousness returned only sporadically, and most of that was fitful. Buck’s visit was eclipsed by what was quickly becoming a deathwatch. Erik and Mabel took him to the bus station and he promised to return as soon as the war was over. He and Erik stepped out to talk privately, but Erik was evasive to her questions about what they’d discussed.

  She slipped into the kitchen to help an exhausted Frieda after a night of preparing food for the never-ending stream of wellwishers and relatives. Otto A. and Marcia had assumed the roles of host and hostess, reigning in the house that would be theirs as soon as Emma passed away. Something about Marcia being the heir-apparent to this household unsettled Mabel, but it wasn’t any of her business.

  “I never got to hear the end of the story,” she lamented to the cook.

  “Well, I wasn’t there, but I’ve heard enough about it that I can probably help. What do you still want to know?”

  “I didn’t want to prod, but whatever happened to Emma Burgemeister? Did she get convicted for Otto’s murder?”

  “Oh, that is going back a bit. But I do know that she paid a five thousand dollar bail and then escaped to Europe. She became a distinguished nurse in the Great War. But she returned to the United States two years after and hid out in New York City.”

  “With Emma Daschiel?”

  “I don’t know. But the Bexar County district attorney caught up with her eventually and brought her back to stand trial. She charmed the all-male jury, from what I understand, goading them into buying a self-defense plea.”

  “Wow. So she never served time in prison?”

  “Only the time during the trial. It made national news. Trial of the century stuff, they called it. Her attorney was a former governor. A dry politician. And the prosecuting attorney had the last name of Onion. He was one of Mr. Koehler’s pallbearers. He voted wet.”

  “Do you suppose it was really so divided back then? Down the lines about how one felt about alcohol?”

  “To hear Mrs. Koehler talk, I would say so. Helga says there was a time when she called everyone by Dry or Wet, almost as if it were a title. Dry Thomas Smith. Or Wet William Harper.”

  “I think I would be Dry Mabel Hartley, then. But she didn’t seem to hold against me the fact that I don’t drink beer.”

  “Did you try it in your hair like I told you?”

  Mabel stroked her hair, still marveling at its softness. “I did. Soaked it, then two hours in a towel, then I shampooed it out. It’s like magic.”

  “Then maybe you’re not so dry after all. You’re wet on the head.”

  Mabel laughed. “I suppose. I hope she would have been happy with that.”

  “She liked you,” Frieda said. “Goodness. I’m already speaking about her as if she’s deceased.”

  “She’s been planning on being deceased for the whole time I’ve known her!” Mrs. Koehler always insisted that the end was very near.

  “Anything else you wanted to know?”

  “Only about the Great Depression. We stopped the story at the end of Prohibition, but the Depression came about during the latter part of it. How did she get through that?”

  “Much the same, I’ve heard. She defied the board and held on to all the equipment they’d used when they diversified. So when that terrible time hit and few people could afford to buy beer, she was perfectly poised
to revert back to ice production and other things that people still needed. By the end of that, the board was approving nearly anything she came up with, and even voted to make her president. She retired just as this war was starting, but most of their success right now is due to her vision for how to carry through what she saw coming.”

  “She was quite a woman,” Mabel said, realizing that she, too, was talking about her in the past tense.

  “She was. Have you thought about what you’re going to do with all those notebooks?”

  Mabel had, in fact, given it much thought.

  “I have. First, I want to talk to other people who knew her and flesh out the story some more. Then, I want to have copies typed and bound for each family member so that they have an accounting of her life. And after that, I’d like to send it to a publisher. I hope to encourage women to get into business and to forge their own path in a man’s world.”

  “Well, well. We may have a writer on our hands after all.”

  “Maybe. I certainly have a lot of ideas.”

  “Everyone has ideas, Miss Hartley. Only the brave make them happen.”

  A stream of family, friends, and notable people made the rounds through the mansion as word of Emma’s failing health spread throughout the city. Mabel kept busy helping Frieda keep them all fed. But sometimes, she would slip a notebook out of her apron pocket and hover near the umbrella stand, listening to the stories passing between the visitors. After a couple of weeks, she’d amassed a wealth of details to add to her project.

  She wished she could have known Emma Koehler for more than these scant months and felt the acute responsibility to memorialize her to those who’d never known her at all.

  The parade eventually thinned and Mabel slipped into Emma’s room on a rare quiet evening. A small candle flickered atop the nightstand, as it would at the vigil of a saint. She pulled a chair over to the bedside, careful not to drag its feet across the floor and wake Emma.