The Sisters Hemingway

by Annie England Noblin

  “And you think it was Mom and Dad?” Pfeiffer asked.

  “No,” Martha said. “But it has to be somebody.”

  “That’s why I’m hoping Anna knows something. Reese said she and Aunt Bea were best friends as kids,” Pfeiffer said, careful to omit the information she’d found in the journal. For some reason she wasn’t ready to share it yet. Not without the missing pages.

  “Did you know Mom was planning on leaving the farm that spring she died?” Martha asked. “Because Hadley knew, and she didn’t tell us.”

  “I didn’t know,” Pfeiffer replied. “I found out the same way you did.”

  “Why do you think she didn’t tell us?”

  Pfeiffer shrugged. “I don’t know. But I guess it wouldn’t have made any difference after Mama and Mary died.”

  “I guess not,” Martha said, chewing on a strand of hair. “I don’t know. It’s too early for me to think.”

  “Well, can you at least help me pick something to wear?” Pfeiffer asked. “I’m at a loss.”

  Martha climbed out of bed and rummaged through her clothes. She pulled out a mint-green sundress identical to the yellow one. “Wear this one,” she said. “It will go great against your skin.”

  “Thanks,” Pfeiffer replied. “I don’t really have much that doesn’t look like I’m headed for a business meeting.”

  “So you like him?” Martha asked. “Luke?”

  Pfeiffer felt herself blush and had a flashback to when they were teenagers—this very room, this very same conversation about other boys. “I think I might,” she said.

  “Well, he wouldn’t have offered to meet you at nine thirty a.m. on a Saturday if he didn’t like you, too,” Martha replied.

  “Thanks,” Pfeiffer replied. “Are you going to come?”

  “And miss the chance to go back to sleep while the house is quiet?” Martha asked. “Hell no. The keys are on the table.”

  Pfeiffer grinned. “Okay. I’ll let you know what I find out,” she said, slipping from the room and closing the door behind her.

  The quiet of the house was foreign to Pfeiffer after so many years of hearing a busy city bustling outside her apartment. But she could remember waking up early on the weekends, before anyone else in the family was awake, and just sitting outside and thinking. It was the only time she didn’t have to worry about arguing with Pfeiffer or Martha, or listen to Mary’s incessant questions, or do the list of chores her mother would inevitably present to her. When it was quiet outside, it was quiet in her head, and that was worth more than any Manhattan sunrise.

  LUKE WAS WAITING for Pfeiffer when she pulled into the parking lot. He was sitting on the front steps of his law office in a pair of jeans, leather sandals, and another crisp, white T-shirt. The sky above them was dark as she got out of the car to meet him, the rain from the night before never completely subsiding.

  “Good morning,” Luke said, handing her a cup of coffee. “I took a chance that you’d like it black.”

  “I do,” Pfeiffer said, breathing in the aroma. “Thank you.”

  “Weird weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

  Pfeiffer looked up at the bruised sky. “Yeah, but that’s Missouri for you.”

  “The weather was a bit more predictable in St. Louis,” Luke replied.

  “That’s the thing about the Ozarks,” Pfeiffer said. “We can’t decide if we’re the South or the Midwest, and neither can the weather.”

  “Well, you look nice,” Luke said, standing a little too close to her.

  “Thanks,” Pfeiffer replied. And then, for lack of knowing what to say, added, “Where’s Reese?”

  “He’ll be here,” Luke replied. “He’s always late.”

  Pfeiffer raised an eyebrow. “Are you two friends?”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Luke replied. “I was his lawyer a couple years back. He was late for every single meeting we ever had.”

  “I bet your secretary didn’t like that much.”

  “She did not.”

  “I think my sister has a crush on him,” Pfeiffer said.

  “Which one?”

  “Martha.”

  “Well, he’s not a bad guy,” Luke told her. “He just wants everyone to think he is.”

  Pfeiffer rolled her eyes. “He’s too old for that, but I guess I should be grateful he agreed to take us to see his grandmother.”

  “So you want to tell me the real reason you’re going to have a chat with Anna Graham?” Luke asked.

  “Real reason?”

  “I’m a lawyer,” Luke said. “I can tell when someone has an ulterior motive.”

  “I don’t have any motives,” Pfeiffer replied, looking down into her coffee cup.

  “Doesn’t have anything to do with the body they found on your property?” Luke asked. “And the odd request from your aunt that the farm stay in the family at all costs?”

  Pfeiffer’s eyes snapped up to his.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Looks like it’s gonna rain!” they heard Reese call out, driving up to them with the window to his pickup truck down. “Hop on in.”

  “I can drive myself,” Pfeiffer said.

  “Ain’t no reason,” Reese replied. “Plenty of room up here in the front seat.”

  Pfeiffer walked around to the passenger’s side of the truck and opened the door. The truck was lifted so high up off the ground that she considered taking a running start at it. Before she had the chance to give it a try, she felt a pair of hands on her hips, lifting her up.

  Luke was behind her, helping her into the truck. “You got it?” he asked, once she was in the seat.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Pfeiffer said. She allowed his hands to linger on her waist for just a moment longer before she scooted over and shut the door.

  “My grandmama just lives a couple miles away,” Reese said. “She said she was tickled pink to have you come and visit.”

  “I’m glad,” Pfeiffer said. “I promise I won’t take up too much of her time.”

  “It’s not you taking up time that I’m worried about,” he said. “I just hope you’re ready for the photo albums to come out.”

  “I like looking at old pictures,” Pfeiffer said.

  “Might get a couple of me in the buff,” Reese replied with a wink.

  Pfeiffer ignored him and stared out the window at the passing rows of houses. There had been a time in her life when she knew who lived in every single one of them. Now she wasn’t sure if she would recognize half of the people she graduated high school with. When they pulled up to a small, white one-story house surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, Pfeiffer remembered that she’d been there before. “I came here once with my aunt,” she said. “To return a serving dish your grandmother brought over after my mother and sister died.”

  “Her casseroles are the best,” Reese said. “I practically live on ’em.”

  The older woman was sitting out on the porch with a quilt square in her hands. She waved and smiled at them as they approached, standing up to greet them. “I thought maybe Reese overslept,” she said. “He has a tendency to do that, you know.”

  “I set an alarm this morning, Granny,” Reese replied, bending down to give her a kiss.

  “Was she pretty?” Anna asked.

  Pfeiffer almost burst out laughing, but managed to contain herself. “Thanks for having me over, Mrs. Graham.”

  “Oh, honey, call me Anna,” she said. “You’re practically family.”

  Pfeiffer smiled, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Well, thank you.”

  “Come on inside,” Anna replied. “I’ve already got coffee cake on the table. Would you all like some coffee, too?”

  “I’d love some,” Luke said.

  “How are you, Lucas?” Anna asked. “You’re looking well.”

  “I am well, thank you.”

  “How’s business?”

  “Booming,” Luke said. “There’s always someone who needs a lawyer. Even in a little town like this.
”

  “Don’t I know it,” Anna replied, nodding over toward Reese, who was already eating a mouthful of coffee cake. “You don’t know how much I appreciate your help with that one over there.”

  “All in a day’s work,” Luke replied.

  “Goodness, I hope not,” Anna said with a tinkling laugh.

  Pfeiffer and Luke followed Anna to the table, where they were told to sit, despite offering to help her serve the coffee. She presented them with china that Pfeiffer hadn’t seen in a home in years, and she wondered if her aunt had some stored somewhere as well. It might be nice to have some of the cups for coffee.

  “So how long were you and my aunt friends?” Pfeiffer asked after everyone was settled.

  “Since we were five years old,” Anna replied.

  “That’s a long time,” Pfeiffer said. “I don’t remember seeing you at our house while my aunt lived there . . . well, while I lived there for those two years before I left for college.”

  “I rarely went there,” Anna said. “In fact, I haven’t been out there since before Bea moved away back in the forties.”

  “How come?”

  Anna shrugged. “I guess it was always easier for your aunt to come here.”

  “But she didn’t drive,” Pfeiffer said. “Old Crow had to take her everywhere.”

  “Old Crow?” Anna raised an eyebrow.

  “Sorry. Mr. Crowley.”

  Anna took a sip of her coffee, leaving a smear of peach-colored lipstick around the rim. “Well, she came into town at least once a month for necessities,” she replied. “So she would come by and have coffee. It was just easier.”

  “Not much except the river out your way,” Reese interjected. “Good fishin’, though.”

  “Are you and Mr. Crowley friends, too?” Pfeiffer asked.

  “We’ve never been close,” Anna replied. “He’s an odd duck. But he was always good to your aunt.”

  “So you tolerated him.”

  Anna nodded. “I suppose you could say that.” She took another sip of her coffee. “Your aunt and I were the exceptions to the friend rule back then,” she said. “Your aunt lived in the country, and I lived here in town. Most of the country kids stuck together.”

  “But you all went to the same school, didn’t you?”

  “We did,” Anna replied. “Most of them, like Rufus Crowley, stopped going at about sixth grade. But your great-grandfather believed that school was important, even for girls. Quite the revolutionary, he was.”

  Pfeiffer smiled. “I’m glad to know that.”

  “He was a good man,” Anna said. “All the James men were good men.”

  “I wish I’d known more of them,” Pfeiffer replied.

  “You come from good stock, honey,” Anna said, patting her hand. “Would you like some more coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Here you are, my dear,” Anna said, pouring from the pot into Pfeiffer’s cup. “Just like your aunt, no sugar or milk.”

  Pfeiffer bit at the corner of her lip. She wanted to ask Anna about Will, and about the journal, but she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject without sounding obvious or having to answer questions from Reese and Luke. Instead of mentioning either, she said, “Did my aunt ever come close to getting married?”

  Anna shook her head. “No, not that I can recall.”

  “Not ever?”

  Anna’s eyes flicked up to Pfeiffer. She took a sip of her coffee and then said, “Reese, would you be a good boy and take the rest of this coffee cake over to Mrs. Anderson next door? She’s got her niece and nephew for the weekend, and I’m sure she would be grateful for anything she doesn’t have to cook. Take Lucas with you.”

  Reese stood and picked up the cake. “Where’s the cover, Gran?”

  “On the counter in the kitchen.”

  “Are you sure this can’t wait?” Reese asked, once he and Luke were at the front door. “It’s pouring outside.”

  “You ain’t sugar, and you won’t melt,” Anna replied. “Neither of you.”

  “Come on,” Reese said to Luke. “Let’s go before she thinks of something else she needs done in this damn monsoon.”

  “He’s really not so bad,” Anna confided to Pfeiffer once they’d gone. “He just needs a bit of reining in every once in a while.”

  “I’m sure he’s not,” Pfeiffer replied. “It was nice of both of you to make time for me today.”

  Anna smiled and set her cup down daintily on its saucer. “Now, my dear, why don’t you tell me why you’ve really come to visit?”

  Pfeiffer cleared her throat. “To talk with you about Aunt Bea.”

  “And what about her?”

  “I need you to tell me about Will.”

  A flicker of surprise registered on Anna’s face for only an instant before she said, “How do you know about Will?”

  “He was Aunt Bea’s boyfriend,” Pfeiffer said. “When you were teenagers?”

  “Yes,” Anna said. “A long, long time ago.”

  “What do you remember about him?”

  “Not much,” Anna replied. “He was your great-grandfather’s farmhand for less than a year.”

  “And he and my aunt were in love?”

  “How do you know about Will?” Anna asked again.

  “Can you tell me what happened to him?” Pfeiffer said, ignoring the older woman’s question. “Where did he go after he left Cold River?”

  Anna was quiet for a few moments, running one of her pale pink fingernails across the rim of her saucer. “I don’t know.”

  “Did it end badly between them?”

  “She wouldn’t tell me,” Anna replied. “She wouldn’t tell anyone anything ever again.”

  “Is that why she stopped talking?” Pfeiffer pressed. “Because of Will?”

  “I don’t know,” Anna said again. “One day Will was gone. The next, she and Maryann, your grandmother, were leaving for St. Louis so Maryann could see some kind of fertility doctor up there. Those were a rare thing back then, you know, and Maryann suffered so many losses. They never thought they’d have your mother. Anyway, they didn’t come back until after Maryann had given birth, and I never heard Beatrice speak another word.”

  “Why did Aunt Bea go to St. Louis?” Pfeiffer asked.

  Anna shrugged. “I always assumed it was because she was so heartbroken over Will leaving.”

  “But you don’t know what happened between them?”

  “Tell me how you know about Will,” Anna said. “Nobody knew about him except for me.”

  “I found a journal,” Pfeiffer said. “In her nightstand. It was hidden, and I wasn’t looking for it, I swear. She mentioned a boy named Will, a farmhand her father didn’t like, but she was in love with him.”

  “She was deeply in love with him,” Anna said.

  “In the last pages, she wrote about going to his cabin,” Pfeiffer said. “I think they might’ve . . . might’ve . . .”

  “Had sex?” Anna finished. “It’s okay, honey, no need to be embarrassed. I have given birth to six children. I know what it is.”

  “Yes, well, I think they might’ve,” Pfeiffer replied. “But the journal ends there. She went over there to tell him that her father was going to fire him, only she never told him. And the pages after that have all been ripped out.”

  “Strange,” Anna said.

  “And when I asked Mr. Crowley about it—”

  “You asked Rufus?” Anna interrupted her. “You asked him about the journal?”

  Pfeiffer nodded. “He’s been acting like he might know something about the body he and Brody found in the yard. But he won’t talk to the sheriff. He won’t talk to anyone.”

  Anna took a deep, ragged breath. “Rufus was in love with your aunt,” she said. “Clear until the very end.”

  “But she didn’t love him?”

  “She did,” Anna replied. “But not in the way he wanted.”

  “Do you think he could have hurt Will?” Pfeiffer asked. “
Do you think that’s what all of this is about?”

  “I don’t know,” Anna said. “I never understood their odd friendship, but I do know that he would have done anything for her. He would have done anything to keep her safe.”

  “Safe from what?”

  “Whatever he saw as a threat,” Anna replied. Then, reaching out to take Pfeiffer’s hand, she said, “Don’t underestimate him, Pfeiffer. He may be old, but he’s not stupid. Leave it alone and let the sheriff do his job. It will all come out in the wash.”

  Pfeiffer pulled her hand away from the older woman and said, “The sheriff thinks my mother or father might’ve had something to do with it. I know they didn’t. If finding out what happened to Will can help prove their innocence, I’m not going to stop asking questions.”

  Anna sat back in her chair as the door blew open and Reese and Luke staggered inside, battered and soaking. “There’s a storm headed this way, Pfeiffer,” she said. “There won’t be anything you can do until it passes. Go home and try to forget about this unpleasantness. It’s been nearly seventy years. Another few days won’t hurt.”

  “It’s getting bad out there,” Luke said. “Pfeiffer, I hate to cut our visit short, but I think it might be a good idea to get home.”

  “I agree,” Anna replied. “But thank you for coming to see me. You made an old lady’s day.”

  Anna was smiling, but Pfeiffer could see the pain in the older woman’s eyes, and part of her felt terrible for bringing up old memories. “It was nice to see you again,” she said. “Thank you for the coffee.”

  “You’re welcome anytime,” Anna replied. “And, Pfeiffer, remember what I said, will you?”

  “I will.”

  Pfeiffer kept quiet on the drive back, watching the rain pour down. She hated rain. She hated any kind of weather that had the potential to do something other than warm her skin or allow her to ski. Rain meant floods. Rain meant thunder and lightning, and sometimes, rain meant tornadoes. That was one of her favorite things about living in New York City—no tornadoes.

  Reese drove off in a hail of exhaust, talking about a meeting with a hot blonde, leaving Pfeiffer and Luke standing in the rain.

  “Do you want to come up for a minute?” Luke asked, motioning to his office. “Just until it lets up a bit?”

  “I thought you said we needed to get home?” Pfeiffer asked.