Twisted River

by Kelsey Gietl

  “What do you think I’m doing? I’m here, am I not?” Tena jerked the pram handle to a stop, her very pointed glare focused on her sister. “Would you rather I wasn’t?”

  “Of course not.” She wanted Tena beside her on this. If it came down to brass tacks, Maggie would continue the search on her own, but better if she could convince Tena to help her. The last time Tena stormed out in anger, they hadn’t spoken for five months.

  “Fine,” Maggie amended. “We learn why Father donated money to the gardens and then I promise I’ll concede. Is that acceptable?”

  Tena searched her sister’s face for any trace of deception, then finally nodded. “I think I can agree to that.”

  Up ahead, the path curved towards a round pool reflecting the vast building beyond. Made of glass, its curved walls rose three layers high with intersecting panels like a dramatic enclosed bird cage. Beside her, Hugo inhaled sharply.

  “Mr. Frye?” Reuben asked. “Anything the matter?”

  Hugo shook his head. “Don’t trouble yourself over me.” He lifted his Brownie from his shoulder, released the case and turned to capture the Palm House in its lens. “The light today is intriguing. Mr. Radford, why don’t you continue on with Miss Archer? We’ll be along in a minute.” He flipped the camera lever and the shutter snapped.

  Maggie watched Reuben and Tena walk away, fading into a sky painted with retreating thunderclouds. Soon enough their voices became incoherent hums amongst the bird songs and wind whistles. Somewhere nearby the gentle scent of violets stirred with the breeze, not so very different from the day Reuben stole her umbrella and kissed her beneath a pouring sky. Not her first kiss, but the first one that truly mattered.

  Click. Hugo stood off the other side of the path with her neatly in his camera’s sights. A sly smile crossed his face. “The frame seemed ideal. I believe I can sell that one easy.”

  She scowled at him. “Stop kidding about that. No one is buying photographs of me. I hope you’re burning them instead.”

  “Could be,” he said. “It seems more fun to keep you guessing.”

  “Oh, what did I do to deserve such an exasperating partner?”

  “Something very rotten, I’d bet.” He grinned, eyes glittering like Henry elbow deep in a candy barrel, and Maggie itched to finish this business quickly.

  She took hold of the pram handle again. “Shall we continue on?”

  Hugo returned the camera to its case and slung the entire apparatus over his shoulder once again. It tapped against his back as they continued down the path. He pointed to the Palm House in the distance. “That building reminds me of the flight cage at the St. Louis World’s Fair. Had all sorts of birds in it. It’s still in Forest Park. The cage, not the birds. Those were sold.” Hugo shrugged. “I try not to visit it anymore.”

  On the hill above, Tena and Reuben waited near the entrance to the glass building, still far enough away not to overhear them, but Hugo’s eyes were focused somewhere far beyond any of them.

  “Many things happened at the fair. It was a photographer’s paradise. Every surface shone, white and dazzling. Rolled up waffles filled with ice cream, glasses of fresh ice tea, and the most enormous Ferris wheel. Plus the palaces of industry and art and electricity. Sure, I’d seen fairs before—Chicago, Buffalo, Charleston—but this time I was home. For four years, I hadn’t stayed in St. Louis more than a few weeks at a time, and now I had reason to be grounded for nearly a year. I had such pride for our city, and I thought, this is where I want to be buried.”

  Maggie smiled at the light in his eyes. “Then what made you decide to leave again?”

  “Ultimately Damaris. She’s not one to sit still, especially after I ruined our constant travels by falling in love.” His lips hitched up, his eyes lost far away in memories of Emma, and all at once, Maggie felt like an intruder. She pushed the pram a little faster.

  Hugo skipped to keep up. “I met Emma near the flight cage. This girl taps me on the shoulder and says, ‘Pardon, sir, could I trouble you for a photograph?’ She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman I had ever beheld to that point. Hair like mine; not since my mother had I seen the same shade. She was barely eighteen, and I was twenty-five, but she seemed older. She was a full seven inches above me, like peering up at an Amazon warrior. She twitched her nose and popped her hip with her parasol for me to photograph.

  “And I did. Over and over. I used the remainder of my film for the day. Half the photographs didn’t even turn out; I was so nervous when I developed them, aching to see her face again. Her family stayed the length of the fair, all the way until December, and we married the week before it closed. It was bitterly cold, but there was more warmth between us to start a blaze in every fireplace. I think now it was probably very impetuous for a man of my age to be attracted to someone so youthful.”

  There had been only seven years between Hugo and his first wife. Seven, Maggie thought, not thirteen.

  A shrill wail erupted from Abigail and Hugo moved to the pram. Stealing it from her hands, he gently pushed it back and forth until the baby quieted.

  “Back then,” he said slowly, “as things were only beginning, I would never have wagered in a hundred lifetimes, that it wouldn’t always be that way. I wouldn’t have believed that five years later Emma would choose another life. Or that the one she chose wouldn’t include me. Sometimes we’ll never find out the answer to our whys, but in your case, Miss Margaret, you can. Don’t concede to Tena if you don’t have to. Don’t spend life like me, an old man wondering.”

  “Thirty-four is not old. I wouldn’t marry an old man.”

  “Thirty-four is not twenty. Your life is only beginning.”

  They stopped a few paces from where Tena and Reuben stood shoulder to shoulder. He had divined a copy of The War of the Worlds from somewhere and held it up for both of them to read. Every few lines, Tena would comment and Reuben would shake his head. If the two of them didn’t acknowledge their implicit attraction soon, Maggie would need to do so lest it eventually implode upon them all. But first, she had Hugo to deal with. He was scorching her with his troubled eyes and wounded soul and she hadn’t any indication of how to help.

  Fortunately, he spoke before she figured it out. “I’m sorry, Miss Margaret. It’s this place. It reminds me of another time and things I once wanted.” He tucked his chin and smiled up at her. “Don’t worry about me. Today the focus is on you.”

  Today was about her: discovering her family’s secrets and securing Abigail’s future along with her own. Hugo had given her leave to be selfish, but suddenly she found it didn’t thrill her as it should.

  When Abigail cried out again, Maggie reached for her, but Hugo nudged her hand away with a firm shake of his head. “I’ll handle her. You go on in with Tena and find your answers.”

  “What will you do?”

  Bending low, he lifted Abigail from the pram and with a kiss to her curls, snuggled her against his chest. This time, he didn’t meet Maggie’s eyes. “I’ll do what I always do. Wait for my wife to come back to me.”

  ~~~

  Walking into the Palm House was like experiencing a city summer in St. Louis—hot, humid, and packed into close quarters. The brick-laid path wove between thick layers of lush tropical green so dense that Maggie and Tena could only see around the path’s curve and no farther. Above them, the sun shone through the glass dome, but at points struggled to break through the foliage. To the left, a white wrought-iron spiral staircase led to an elevated walkway over thirty feet above.

  “What made you change your mind?” Tena asked as they walked. She pushed back a tropical frond, allowing Maggie to walk past before letting it slap back in place.

  “I don’t want to spoil this again.” She gestured between them. “Us as sisters. And I think that there should be some give as well as take.” Although, Maggie thought, if you don’t give, then I’m going to have to take anyway. She really, truly, didn’t want to harm their friendship again, but what else could she
do if Tena didn’t agree? Let the past lie? But what if someone found it later and used it when she wasn’t looking?

  “Reuben had me consider something else,” Tena said. She stared down at Maggie as they ascended the staircase.

  Maggie rolled her eyes with an unladylike grunt. “He did? I suppose it placed the chips firmly out of my favor then?

  “Actually, he reminded me that you’re as much an Archer as I am. He reasoned that maybe you shouldn’t be the only one forced to make concessions.”

  “He did?” Maggie repeated. “He took my side?”

  “I believe his point, Maggie, was that we should be on the same side.” From this high, they could now see the entirety of the central room. Tena raised her hand to flag down a gardener as he entered. “Assistance, sir?” she called. She turned back to Maggie as the man made his way to the staircase. “I’m willing to take this to the end, wherever it goes or whatever we may find out. But you must promise me one thing.”

  Maggie nodded. This was working in her favor, she thought with excitement. Perhaps, everything could work out. Perhaps once in awhile, there was a happy ending.

  “You must agree to never leave me again, Maggie.” The wrought-iron creaked as the gardener ascended the staircase, but Tena’s eyes never strayed from Maggie’s. She laced her arms behind her back and Maggie pictured two little girls in white dresses dancing around the maypole on the day declared just for them. Until the year the elder sister walked out in the night and never said goodbye.

  “Promised,” she swore. “I’ll never leave again, and don’t you ever ask me.”

  “Never fear, because I never will.” Tena tugged Maggie into her arms with a squeeze. “Even if I certainly feel like it.”

  Both women grabbed the railing as the walkway shifted under the gardener’s weight as he strode towards them. Slipping off his cap, he smoothed back hair glistening with sweat from the tropical environment. “Afternoon, ladies. ’Fraid I’ve had my hands in the soil otherwise I’d extend one in greeting.” He grinned, revealing one crooked tooth in the center of his smile. “Could I help you locate a particular botanical variety?”

  “Are you familiar with a donor by the name of Laurence Archer?” Maggie asked. “If he had any long-term connection to the Palm House?”

  The gardener scratched his head. “Can’t say I know of a Laurence Archer, although, there is a man who goes simply by L. He’s been one of our most magnanimous donors for—what has it been?—about fourteen or fifteen years now? Taller bloke, fair hair, smart dresser.”

  “That could be him.”

  “Or it could be anyone,” Tena muttered.

  “Real decent mate, I tell you, ladies. He came around ’bout twice a year, checking on the houses, I suppose to make certain he had his farthing’s worth.”

  “He invested the most in the Palm House?” Maggie asked.

  “Yes, miss, on any project in which Dr. Schweitzer had a vested interest.”

  “Dr. Schweitzer?”

  The gardener stared. “Blimey, you mean to say tell you’ve never heard of Dr. Alois Schweitzer, the celebrated botanist?” Both girls glanced at each other and shook their heads. His eyes widened. “Are you quite certain?”

  Tena shook her head. “No, sir. Should we have?”

  He released a low whistle. “Well, I should say so. The bloke towers over you, commands a room he does. You’re not likely to forget him once you’ve met. He’s at the South London Botanical Institute now, so unfortunately we don’t see him as often anymore.”

  “How did Dr. Schweitzer meet Mr. Archer?”

  He thumbed his chin. “You know, I don’t rightly know. I was only a lad then, didn’t get my post in the Palm House ’till ought-five. Also, do you know those women?”

  Maggie and Tena turned in the direction he nodded to see two familiar faces energetically waving up at them from the path below. The twins matched head to toe, from their navy day suits to blonde hair coiffed under hat feathers lying limp in the humidity. Edith and Bianca Winchester—now Mrs. Christopher Hartnell and Mrs. Colin Smith after their whirlwind marriages last year—were the thorns Maggie yanked from her side and tossed off in Fontaine. If not for the Winchesters, she wouldn’t have won the May Queen crown two years past and never been sentenced to the tumultuous path she ended up on. If given the option, she would now walk away without a word.

  Unfortunately, the only way back to the ground deposited them directly at the Winchesters’ feet.

  “Oi, Maggie, Tena!” Bianca called. “We have missed you, darlings.”

  “It has been too long!” Edith echoed. “What are the odds that the exact time I visit my sister, you both come to stay?”

  In a flash they rattled the stairs to join Maggie and Tena on the walkway, kisses pressed to both cheeks in greeting. The gardener wisely slipped back down to his plants.

  Edith playfully shoved Tena’s shoulder. “Too long!” she repeated. “Not even a letter in all this time. Christopher and I must have you both back here for the Christmas holiday, no arguments.”

  “Where are your children?” Maggie asked. Both women had been expecting when the Archer sisters left Fontaine. Their babies would be a few months older than Abigail.

  Bianca rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “They’re with the nanny, thank goodness. It would be simply dreadful to cart those little things all over.” She reached into her handbag, removing a white card with a flourish, and held it out to Tena. “I’m hosting a small soiree tonight. Details are written here, and you simply must attend. We so missed you at the Christmas party. Oh! Did I also hear tell about the perpetual spinster making a baby?” Bianca raised a hand to her lips and whispered, “What’s the name of the little baseborn thing?”

  Maggie pressed a hand to either hip lest they lash out and strike Bianca’s perfectly powdered face. “I-am-mar-ried,” she ground out one sticky syllable at a time. “Abigail is as legitimate as you are. How did you even learn about her?” There had been a newspaper announcement for the wedding, but nothing regarding Abbie’s birth. Tena appeared as baffled as she did.

  Bianca offered her a cool smile. “Oh, darling, we have our ways.”

  I’ll bet, Maggie thought.

  Leaning over the railing, Edith traced the pathways with her eyes. “Where is that husband of yours?” She threw a sly smile over her shoulder. “He must be quite the catch to have caught you. Don’t tell me you snagged a Vanderbilt, or I will never forgive you.”

  “Family name doesn’t buy importance,” Tena interjected. “The heat in here was simply too intense, so Mr. Frye kept the baby outside with Mr. Radford.”

  “Reuben Radford?” Bianca smirked. She exchanged a sly look with her sister. “My, whose skirt has he been ruffling these days?”

  Before they could set in on their own special brand of harassment, Tena silenced them. “Before you think it, you couldn’t be more mistaken. Mr. Radford has a beau of nearly nine months now, and I am quite pleased to stand my own ground for the moment besides.” She pushed past Bianca with gentle force. “Do excuse us. We really must attend to some pressing matters.”

  “Oh darling, you’ve always been so sensitive,” Bianca scoffed. “Whether some man’s titillating you or not, you’ve already come an ocean’s length. What’s one little night out of your schedule to spend with old friends?”

  Friend was not the word Maggie would have used.

  “Maggie hasn’t anyone to tend to Abigail,” Tena argued.

  “Nonsense!” Edith exclaimed. “You must bring her with you. Bianca’s nanny is the finest money can buy, and you know her Colin, so money can buy them quite a bit. Your Abigail will stay in the nursery with my Dina and Bianca’s Tilly.” She emitted a tiny squeal and slipped an arm around Maggie and Tena, squeezing them close. “Why, you both should stay with us for the duration of your trip. We’ve plenty of space!”

  Maggie wriggled out of her grasp. “That’s not necessary. We’ve rooms at the Sentinel.”

&nbs
p; Bianca’s nose wrinkled. “An inn? Heavens, what has American life done to you?”

  “No, no,” Edith chuckled. “That place is ghastly. We insist you stay at the estate in Chiswick.”

  Bianca grinned evilly. “It’s all settled then. I’ll send the driver to collect you and your belongings at six sharp. Wear your best! Tata!” With a final waggle of their fingers and matching giggles, the twins scampered down the staircase and disappeared into the foliage.

  “I’m not certain my best will impress them anymore,” Tena said, her face as dumbfounded as Maggie felt.

  In her mind’s eye, she conjured an image of Hugo working in his photography studio. His suit was old, the hems frayed, and his hair stuck up in directions that shouldn’t be physically possible. Never once in his life would she wager he stepped foot in a ballroom nor owned a set of proper tails. He wouldn’t be able to list the duties of a valet or express the difference between a first and second footman. Could he even forge a waltz if pressed?

  “No, Tena,” Maggie said. “I’m afraid our best doesn’t even come close.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “Stop fidgeting,” Tena scolded. “You’re wringing my nerves dry.”

  Maggie forced her limbs to stillness. “I can’t help it,” she whispered. Shifting Abigail into the crook of her arm, she accepted Hugo’s help from the motorcar. Under the overcast navy sky, the massive three-story grey-stone was illuminated from only its windows and low-hanging electric lamps secured beneath the luxurious portico. Not since her service to Lady Alexander had she been within ten miles of a home so superior. It made the Fryes’ riverside dwelling akin to a hovel.

  Hugo stole Reuben away to address a servant’s question regarding their luggage, leaving Maggie alone with Tena. “This house holds an uncanny resemblance to the one I served in,” she whispered. “I half expect Derby himself to open the door to us.”