Three Rivers Rising (6 page)

I tear the note
into the tiniest shreds possible,
planning to sink it
to the bottom of the lake
forever.

Peter

I row toward the dam—
my only chance to see Celestia again.
But it’s her father
who thunders past on horseback.
That means Celestia’ll be on foot.

I turn the boat in just past Sheep’s Head Point,
one of our meeting places.
I make the birdcall,
ruffed grouse,
but she’s already waiting there
in the shadows
between a rock and the underbrush.
Just as I start out of the boat to tie it up,
Celestia gets in.
“My family needs me.”
I help her get settled and begin to row.
“What’s wrong?”
“You can never tell anyone …”
“I swear.”
“My sister is…ruined.
They are sending her away.
Disowning her.”
Celestia leans forward,
peering toward the clubhouse.

We reach the middle of the lake
in time to see a carriage dart out
from behind the clubhouse
and tear for the main road,
bumping across the dam too fast.

Celestia jumps to her feet.
The little boat rocks
and I reach for her hand.
We watch the carriage take the last turn
on two wheels
and right itself
safely
as our boat capsizes.

The last thing we see
before we go under
is clots of mud flying
as the carriage disappears
down the hill.

We’re strong swimmers,
both of us,
but I don’t let go of her hand
just the same.
When we surface
and the lake water has streamed off our faces,
she says, “That would have been my carriage.
Mimsy is taking
Estrella
abroad instead.”

I can’t help a selfish thought. “I’m not sorry
that it isn’t you in the carriage.
Maybe we’ll have a few more days.”
“Let’s meet tonight”—she smiles a little—
“I’ll try to get away.”
But her lips are bluing already
and the wind’s too strong to be long in the water.
We heave ourselves into the boat
and I row us to the dock,
even though someone might see us—
what choice do we have?
“Do you want me to come with you?”
I look toward the clubhouse,
which we’ve never entered together.
She squares her shoulders
and shakes her head.
I let her go.

Celestia

The foyer is very still compared to the wind.
Voices drift from the game room:
Mrs. Godwin and Mrs. Marshall.
“I could swear I saw spots—”
“Such a shame.”
“—and on that beautiful face.”
“Such a complexion—of course it will be ruined.”
“If she even lives.”
I let the screen door bang behind me, and the voices stop.
I sense them waiting,
so I step into view,
water running off me in sheets.
Are they gossiping about Estrella?
About her abrupt departure?
I feel the need to stare them down.
They harrumph and return to their card game.
I head for the stairs,
leaving behind a puddle on the floor.
“Insolent girl!”
one whispers,
but loud enough for me to hear.
“I declare, I’ve never seen one bolder.”
“And soaking wet!”
“That child
always
seems to be dripping!”

I climb the stairs
lead-legged
and wet-heavy.

How quickly tall tales begin—
Estrella is spirited away
and these windbags
have her dying of some plague or another.
Better that they are off the trail
of the truth, I suppose.
One thing for sure,
the whole clubhouse will be buzzing
about epidemics
through the afternoon
and most of dinner.

I return to the last place I saw my family.
The door is ajar.
Estrella’s sitting room is laid bare.
No sign that she ever inhabited this place
or that she even existed,
save one length of scarlet embroidery thread
curled up on the settee.

The chill has my bones now
and I shudder.
Is this how it feels to be disowned?
Out in the cold,
shunned from the warmth of the hearth?

I dash down the main corridor
to my parents’ suite.
Their hall door is locked.
They are speaking low
and I press my ear to the door.

“How long has this been going on?” Father’s heavy footfall
suggests he is pacing the floor.
“I do not know.”
“Well, how long have
you
known?”
“She herself did not know
the fact of her condition
until recent days.” Mother’s voice is high and thin.
“That is it, then—she is cut off!
Disowned!
Disinherited!”

“Where did we go wrong?” Mother sobs.
“She is dead to us. Let me never hear her name again.”
“Lower your voice. Please, calm down.”
“And the other one—
her sister—
is not far behind her!” Father bangs something,
glasses rattle. “We must get
her
settled
in an advantageous match
while we still have bargaining power.”

“Another problem, what about Charles?”—
Mother’s voice rises—
“He is on his way here
this very minute.”
“Well then, Estrella can
marry
him. Quickly!
Before her figure swells like a dirigible!”—
Father’s tone brightens—
“We’ll have a wedding
instead of a disaster.”
“No, it is too late.
He will see with his own eyes before long.
And what incentive would he have
not to leave her flat once he realizes?”

Father sounds as if his teeth are clenched:
“Then we must force the hand
of the one responsible,
make
his
family feel the threat of this shame.”

“Good, whatever it takes to keep our daughter.”

“Who is he?
That moon-eyed fop always at her elbow?
Blond fellow?”—Father speaks quickly—
“A good bit fancier than I would have pictured for a son-in-law,
but beggars cannot be choosers.”
“That choosing has already passed, but—” Mother tries to interject.

“What is his name again?” Father must be shuffling papers.
Mother hurries to get the words out: “You are thinking
of young Frederick, but—”
“I will
make
it happen. I could shut down
Fred Senior’s whole Pittsburgh operation
with one stroke of a pen, and everyone knows it.”

Mother’s voice strains slightly: “Bertram, darling!”
“Hmm?”
“Frederick is not the one.”
“No? Then…who?”
My mother utters a sound so low,
I cannot make out the name.
A chair scratches against the floor.

“Grayson? That lecher!”
“Hush! Bertram!”
“For the love of God, Mildred,
what was she thinking?”
A pounding comes next,
like a fist on a table,
and something smashes.
“Thinking did not rule the day, apparently.” Mother sniffs.

My father’s whisper is hoarse,
as if the air has all gone out of him:
“He can destroy us, Mildred.
Everything we have built.
We have no recourse
against a man like that.”
“But, Bertram—”
“Mildred…you know what we have to do.”
Mother’s response is a fresh wave of sobs.

Apparently, she knows the rules of shunning
as well as Mimsy:
they will deny Estrella’s existence
to protect the family
and its position in society.
How could they do this?
Are money
and rich friends
more important
than their daughter?

Or daughters.

I imagine myself lying across the threshold
waiting to be found,
to be comforted
like an old dog.
Huddled with my arms around my knees,
I give in to loss and frustration,
to consuming grief.
Hot tears soak through my cold, wet dress.
My sobs turn to shivers.
I suddenly feel so tired.
My head rests on the warm dark door.

I must stop this somehow …
by helping Mimsy …
by preventing
the disowning from becoming public,
or worse,
the suspicions regarding Estrella’s virtue
from becoming fodder
for nosy society crones.

I must save my sister.

A warm towel,
dry clothes,
eyes cried empty and swollen,
I cannot stop myself from crawling under the covers
and succumbing to sleep, however fitful.

When I rise from the overheated nap,
it is already dark
and my stomach tells me I missed tea
and maybe dinner.
Yawning, I start for the stairs,
toward the smell of roast chicken,
creamed pearl onions,
maybe a fruit pie….
The heavy door of the front room opens
and Charles exits in a band of light.
Estrella’s fiancé!

It all rushes back to me:
I might never see my sister again.
I stifle a gasp.
I want to hear what Charles is saying.

“I should have known
it was too good to be true.” His thin shoulders slump
more than usual.
A low voice responds from inside the room.
I recognize the cadence of my father’s speech.
The light goes out.

Father exits,
closing the door behind him.
The two men are shadows
amid the moonlight’s reflection
off polished wood.

“That’s just how women are—changeable,
like the weather,” Father says.
Charles nods
and coughs, then says, “I was a fool
to think someone like Estrella
could ever grow to love me.”
“Your father and I will work out the details
of terminating the arrangement
in a way that avoids any embarrassment
for your family.”
They shake hands.
“Good luck to you, son.”
Charles does not look back.

The wedding is off.
A whole lifetime of plans
swallowed up by the night in a matter of seconds.

Father, ever the businessman,
has let Charles go
before he could quit,
before word
of Estrella’s predicament
could reach his ears.