Twisted River

by Kelsey Gietl

  In the silence, Hugo stood, garnering everyone’s attention. He paused, napkin in hand, as he realized they expected him to express a sentiment. “Oh, no. I couldn’t say anything. I’m sure he was a wonderful person, and Miss Archer, you do seem lovely, but I couldn’t … I really just needed to use the lavatory.”

  “Mr. Frye?” Maggie smiled up at him, holding out her empty water glass. “Would you mind terribly finding me a dyspepsia tablet on your way back? I do believe the Zuckerkuchen has settled as well as its name sounds.”

  Relieved to answer a question not involving a eulogy, he snatched her glass. “Let’s fix you up then. Mrs. Kisch, do you have any?”

  Elsa gestured upward. “In the upstairs bathroom. Second door on the right. Brown bottle.”

  “I’ll return straight away.” He darted into the hallway, a man on a mission. A minute later his firm footfalls trudged up the stairs.

  Reuben downed his drink without saying anything and ignored the raised eyebrows and confused looks of everyone in the room. He had been wrong about this funeral. Laughing with the Kischs wasn’t the same without Charles. It was infinitely worse.

  Charles had been cheated out of everything he wanted, everything that should have been. Reuben came to America for his friend, and now he would live Charles’s life without him. He spent the last three days writing obituaries and made Tena read every single one. He saw the tears well up in her eyes every single time and heard her lips say, “It’s perfect,” even when her voice told him it never could be. Seeing Charles’s name in print beside the words, “went to God” only made reality bite like a bitter dose of castor oil. So he quit and asked Stanley to write it. It burned that Reuben could write line upon line of beautiful stories for complete strangers, but when it came to the most important person in his life, the pages were completely empty.

  “Reuben?” Karl said. “Would you like to say anything?”

  Maggie leapt from her chair before Reuben could. “I’d like to say something.” She smoothed her skirt and clasped her hands over her stomach, indeed looking a bit off color. “I know I haven’t been easy to live with lately.”

  “An understatement,” Emil muttered.

  “But,” Maggie continued louder, “Charles personally invited me to join you here. He knew that if there was one person my sister always needed it would be me. Tena, Charles loved you, but I do too, and I’m still here. So please, don’t shut me out.”

  Squeezing Reuben’s fingers until her engagement band dug into his skin, Tena stood with a troubled expression, still holding onto her empty glass and his hand. Karl’s eyebrows hit the sky; however, he didn’t comment which was a relief. Or would have been if Tena hadn’t chosen that moment to yank her hand free and push past him into the hallway, the door swinging behind her.

  Reuben laid his napkin on the table with every intention of following; however, Maggie’s voice stopped him halfway out of his seat. “You would be so bold right now, wouldn’t you?”

  She stood straight and assured across the table from him, her blue-grey eyes brooding. Even her face couldn’t help him fathom where she was going with this abrupt mood swing. Reuben eyed her then the door Tena exited out of, anxious to talk to the sane sister no matter how distraught she might be.

  “Bold to leave this room?” he asked. “It doesn’t take bravery to steer clear of your path of destruction.”

  Maggie pointed at the door. “Tena is still my sister. She is vulnerable and depressed right now.”

  Emil reached for his glass and upon seeing it empty, took a swig directly from the bottle. “Holy smokes, Maggie, we don’t need a dramatic buildup. This isn’t the theatre. Get to the point.”

  Maggie hesitated. She worried her lip and slid her hands to her hips then to the table, trying to find a stance that met whatever she was formulating. Her tone calmed significantly. “I simply would like Reuben to remember that Tena’s in love with Charles. She doesn’t need to question that right now.”

  Karl and Elsa both eyed first Maggie then Reuben and finally each other. Elsa placed a gentle hand on Maggie’s wrist. “Of course he does. What exactly are you implying?”

  A warm pain flooded Reuben similar to when he and Maggie stood on the platform at Grand Central Station. He seriously hoped she wasn’t suggesting what he thought she was, except he knew her better than that. He was more intimately connected to her than anyone else in that room and wished so badly that he wasn’t. He met Maggie’s gaze and ignored all others pointed in his direction. “We need to talk. Now.”

  He trudged out to the front garden, knowing full well she would follow him. The door barely banged shut when it opened again behind him. He focused on the house across the cobbled street and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. “Why do you always make me fight you, Maggie? You know I have aggressive tendencies, so why must you always bring them out in spades?”

  “I don’t want to fight, either, Reuben.”

  Reuben turned, her strained face flooding his vision. She seemed to have simultaneously aged ten years and yet looked like a child. Her arms wrapped her middle, clutching into her sides like she might be sick at any moment. “Then why are we standing out here about to have an argument?”

  He didn’t want to battle with her again. Whenever they fought, it renewed emotions he had spent the last two months burying. If his feelings stayed in darkness long enough then hopefully, like a plant, they would wither and die.

  Her lips opened, a deep breath emanating from somewhere deep within. “I want to be the one to help my sister. Can’t you let me have that this once?”

  She turned those stormy blue eyes on him and the breath sucked from his lungs. That wasn’t anger he saw. It was fear.

  “What the devil is wrong with you?” Emil stalked across the lawn towards them. “Between you two and Tena, it’s like the trio of houseguests from hell.”

  Maggie swept a loose hair away from her face. Something flickered and whatever Reuben thought he saw was gone. “It wouldn’t be if Reuben would stay away from Tena.”

  Reuben’s hands dropped to his hips. “Why would I need to do that?”

  Maggie glowered. “The long evening walks alone, helping in the kitchen, buying her books ... you fall all over her.”

  “Of course. Because reading is a sign of amorous passion now.”

  “If so, then Freddie’s really a closet lothario,” Emil chuckled. He tapped a finger to his chin. “Does it count if you make love to a legal text?”

  Maggie pushed Emil out of the way. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing, Reuben? Charles is gone, and you think you can move right in.”

  “Like you allow every man in America to move right in?”

  “Stop it.” Emil threw a hand against Reuben’s chest before he could do more than ball his fingers at his sides. “Only one funeral per day. You can kill each other tomorrow.”

  Reuben pressed against Emil’s hand, ignoring his friend’s words. “Maggie, how could you even think that? Do you honestly believe me so shallow as to see an opening and step in where I don’t belong? Charles was my best mate—”

  “But he invited me!” Maggie shot back. “He didn’t buy you a ticket to America; he bought it for me. You’re here of your own accord. I’m Tena’s sister; what are you? Nothing.”

  Emil’s hand dropped an inch, his face as stunned as Reuben felt. “Incredible. You actually just said that, didn’t you?”

  Maggie stared him down. “My sister’s heart is broken. I won’t allow your friend to play her for a fool.”

  Reuben dug the toes of his brown loafers into the grass, fighting to maintain his composure. “Love is more than conquering someone on an impulse or manipulating their weakest points. I would never take advantage of Tena, and I didn’t take advantage of you.” He dropped his voice to a mere whisper. “Is that what this is actually about? You think you were just one night’s lust for me?”

  He waited for her response, and when there was none, Emil’s eyes
widened. “Blimey, you don’t think that, do you?”

  Maggie bit her lip and with head held high, remained silent.

  Reuben gave a garbled choke. “If you still can’t recognize how much I loved you, Maggie, then you’re right, I’m nothing to you.”

  “Reuben,” Emil cut in quietly, his eyes darting towards the house. “Let’s go somewhere else with this.”

  Reuben ignored him. He folded his arms and stepped far away from her, too far to reach if he suddenly felt out of character and decked her like she so dearly deserved. It was exactly the type of thing to do if he was the louse she thought he was. “Since I’m such a scoundrel, Tena should be thankful you stopped me from chasing after her. You should talk to her, not me, because you obviously know her better than I do.”

  Maggie startled, her brow pinching in confusion, then she released a tiny breath and allowed a smile to light on her lips. “Really? Thank you, Reuben.”

  With a stiff nod, he unhooked one hand from the crook of his arm to wave towards the house. She glided away as effortlessly as she had asked Mr. Frye for a glass of water and some medicine.

  Emil slicked his sun-bleached hair back, drawing the sweat dotting his brow. He gave a low whistle and slapped a hand on Reuben’s back. “Well, that was something. I have to hand it to you for not becoming violent. Because if she said some of that to me—”

  “Am I still insane, Emil?”

  Emil frowned. “There is no positive way for me to respond to that.”

  “Because,” Reuben continued, his heart heavy, “If I was sane, I wouldn’t keep doing this to myself.”

  “She doesn’t, you know,” Emil said. “Know Tena better than you do. If that’s what you’re thinking, you’re wrong. You were the one who was there for her through everything. Her courtship with Charles, her father’s death ... blimey, you even convinced Charles to marry her. You think blood should automatically win over friendship, but why? When it comes to Miss High and Mighty, why do you always lie down like a dog?”

  “So your answer is, yes, I’m still insane.”

  “No, my question is why do you act like you are?”

  “I don’t know.” Reuben imagined Tena in the kitchen right now scouring dirty pans with a vengeance, struggling to keep her mind off the one person who would never be there. Denial was a beautiful thing when it worked. He should know, he was able to pretend all sorts of things to suit his needs. He could pretend his departed sister returned to harass him; he could even act like he deserved to be treated like rubbish by a woman who would never honestly share his affection. But perhaps it wasn’t his affection he should have been most adamant about her returning when there was always someone more needy of her attentions. What a selfish, blind fool he had been.

  He slammed his fist into his palm. “Maggie doesn’t know Tena like I do, and that’s the problem, isn’t it?” He stalked towards the house, anxious to take to his room and leave this wretched day behind him. “I’m through talking.”

  Throwing a hand to his shoulder, Emil pulled him back mid-step, but Reuben pushed him back, nearly toppling Emil onto the grass. “Get out of my way.”

  Emil righted himself, clasping both hands onto Reuben’s shoulders. “Don’t walk away.”

  “Don’t make me clock you.”

  Emil lifted his chin and pointed at his teeth. “Go on then. Right here’ll do nicely. Knock a couple of them out. Fewer to rot later.” Emil laughed. “Come on and clobber me if it’ll make you feel better.” He flinched as Reuben wrenched his arm back then let it fall to his side. Emil’s haughty grin slid to confusion.

  “Aren’t you going to hit me?” he asked. “I mean, I have it coming, don’t I?”

  Reuben rubbed his knuckles along the ever fading scar lines from his duel with Lloyd Halverson—the night he almost died, the night Tena’s memory saved him, the night he lost Maggie forever. “There is nothing I want more than to beat something until my fingers break. But what good would it do? Charles would still be dead. And everything else would still be broken.”

  He slammed the front door open, pushing past Hugo in the hallway and nearly spilling the drinks the photographer carried. “Excuse me,” Reuben muttered gruffly.

  Hugo stared at Emil frozen in silence in the doorway. “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”

  SIX

  “I should have figured I would find you in the kitchen.”

  Watching her sister labor over a sink full of dirty dishes, Maggie leaned against the counter and plucked a piece of leftover Zuckerkuchen from the platter. She popped it into her mouth and licked her lips. “I’m not sure why I’m eating this. It didn’t sit well the first time around.”

  Her sleeves rolled up to the elbows, Tena continued to scour the skillet in her hand without comment.

  “That’s cast iron,” Maggie noted as she nibbled another bite. “It doesn’t need cleaning—”

  “As if you would know. You can barely poach an egg.” Tena dropped the pan into the sink and water poured over the side to soak the rug under her feet. With a sigh, she reached for a towel to mop up the soapy mess. She flung the now soaking towel across the kitchen where it slapped Mr. Frye’s chest as he walked through the door.

  Hugo eyed the watermark on his jacket and held up two glasses. “At least I didn’t spill the drinks.”

  “That would be alcohol abuse.” Emil edged into the room behind Mr. Frye, tossed Maggie a scowl she knew she deserved, then climbed onto the counter to scavenge the top shelf. “They think they can hide the good stuff from me, but are you too clever, Emil? Why yes, yes, you are.” Pumping his fist, he slid out a bottle of gin and hopped off the counter. He tapped the bottle in Mr. Frye’s direction. “Hey, photo man, want to toss back a few on the porch?”

  “Here you are.” Mr. Frye held a full water glass out to Maggie, unclasping his hand to drop a tablet into her palm. “Is my sister out there?” he asked.

  Emil fished in another cabinet, propping the gin bottle under one arm to juggle two glasses in each hand. “I think she’s still in the dining room with my parents.”

  “I should stick with her, I think.” Hugo backtracked to the wet towel on the floor, tossing it to Tena as he left.

  Emil held up the bottle to Tena and Maggie and raised his eyebrows.

  Tena returned to the sink to wring out the wet towel. “I already had two during lunch. This isn’t an occasion to be swept completely under the table.”

  Maggie popped the tablet into her mouth and nearly drowned herself with the full glass of water, her silence eliciting Emil’s deep frown. “Not even you, Miss High and Mighty?” With a huff, he returned all the glasses to the cabinet and the gin to its hiding place. “Fine. Both of you are boring sods. Tee, tell Mama and Papa I’m down the street at Terry and Jakob’s. I’ll be home by dinner.” He hopped through the door, whistling.

  Without Emil’s presence, the room’s silence was unnerving. Tena popped the plug from the sink while Maggie filled the tea kettle and set it on the stove to warm. “Are you still upset with me?” she asked.

  Tena watched dirty dishwater swirl down the drain. “No.”

  Surprisingly, even considering the past few days, her tone seemed genuine. But Maggie knew something bothered her. Was it only related to Charles’s death? Or could it be more than that? Maggie begrudgingly admitted that Reuben would have known right off.

  She located two teacups and filled them with a plentiful helping of tea leaves, enough that the brew would be good and strong … and hopefully jolt her enough to fight through the next bout of pregnancy-induced symptoms.

  Reuben had been right. Why did she always look for a row with him? She didn’t want to, but she also didn’t know how to stop herself anymore. Whenever they were together, the words just came out—the hurt, the accusations ... they fell from her lips as punishment he didn’t deserve. He would never take advantage of Tena; he wasn’t crass enough to force something that so clearly wasn’t the least thought on his mind. But still
… Maggie was a woman spurned, and it grated her last nerve that he understood her sister so well while Maggie felt like she roomed with a stranger. Seeing their closeness right there in front of her nose, day in and day out, and neither making any attempt to hide it, hurt Maggie more than she would ever admit aloud. It was like being a child again when, as all seven-year-olds’ forever friendships do, her best friend, Elsie, told Maggie she wasn’t going to play with her anymore. She found someone new to share her skipping rope with.

  The kettle’s shrill whistle blew through her memories, causing both girls to jump. Maggie snatched it from the stove and turned down the fire to pour hot water into the waiting cups. She offered one to Tena who wiped her damp hands on her skirt before accepting. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Shall we go out back?” Maggie asked. “There’s a perfectly good settee and no one to occupy it.”

  Tena shook her head. “Front garden. Everyone else is in the dining room. With the windows open, they’ll hear every word.”

  Lifting her teacup, Maggie’s first sip scalded her mouth along with her taste buds. She choked as the hot bitter brew slid down her throat. “Lead the way.”

  With shaking hands, Tena carried her tea outside, lifting her skirt to sink onto the grass underneath the study windows. Cloud cover had moved in, allowing some reprieve from the July sun, but no comfort from the humidity. At least a breeze was blowing, Maggie thought, already feeling sweat peak upon her neck. She arranged herself as best she could beside her sister and pressed a hand where her corset ground against the tender flesh. Between the corset, the heat, and her far-too-potent brew, she was likely to expel everything onto her sister’s lap.

  “Honestly,” Tena said, an eyebrow raised at her sister’s discomfort. “This stomach trouble has gone on long enough. You must see a doctor. You could have worms.”

  Knowing it wasn’t any more serious than a person growing inside her, Maggie forced a smile. “I assure you I do not.”