Sleeping Helena (8 page)

I defied Kitty once
, Eva remembered. Kitty might still hold it against her.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Kitty waved at the cluster of chairs that filled the sitting room at the front of the small, weathered coach house.

Eva doubted she would find comfort anywhere in Kitty’s presence, but she eased herself into a cushioned armchair and watched her eldest sister do the same. Beneath the wrinkles and the stray white hairs that fell away from her bun, Eva found a familiar echo of Kitty’s youth. Eva was shocked at the bond she felt; it was almost as though they had never been apart. They could easily have embraced, but did not.

Eva was unsure of how to begin, or even what the conversation should be about. She simply wanted to get a sense of her sister and try to understand how things had come to such a pass.

“Katza,” Eva used her formal name. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking, though I doubt you came here to check on the state of my health.” Kitty saw no need for pleasantries between them.

Karl startled Eva when he entered the room, bearing a tray of coffee and marzipan sweets. She blinked, stunned to find a man in her sister’s household. Her surprise quickly faded to gratitude for the distraction. Eva needed a moment to consider Kitty’s blunt words. She watched in horror as Kitty took three of the round candies and popped them into her mouth like a greedy child.

“Do have one.” She lifted the tray towards Eva. “From München. Very tasty,” she said between bites.

Eva took one delicately between thumb and forefinger. It was delicious, but she did not have another. She was not very fond of sweets.

“Suit yourself,” Kitty said.

“Precisely.”

Kitty stopped chewing and inspected her sister, caught the look of determination on her face.
This might be interesting.
Kitty swallowed.

“Karl, throw another log on that fire, will you? I feel a draft.” Kitty turned her head in order to better hear Eva.

Karl, his expression one of intense disinterest, did as she asked. As soon as he finished and left the room, Eva spoke.

“I won’t waste your time, Katza. All of my life I have followed in Thekla’s footsteps. I have allowed her to form my opinions for me
—
I suspect we all have. We had no one else.” She stopped; she was not here to cast blame. “It occurs to me that I don’t really know you, and I’d like to.”

Kitty shifted in her seat, moving her bulky thighs to a more comfortable position in the chair. It had seen better days, as had she. She was as unsettled by Eva’s candor as Eva had been by her own.

“There’s not much to know, Eva. I am an old woman, like yourself, who has carved out a small life by trial and error.”

“But why have you carved that life out alone? Why did you go off on your own, seclude yourself from us and leave us as you did? I think you owe us the truth.”

Kitty shuffled in her seat, her face revealing nothing. “You are correct, Eva. There are many things you do not know about this family, and you are better off for it. Thekla did her very best by you all, be sure of it. Even had I stayed, she would have mothered you no differently.”

“But you didn’t stay and the family has been divided ever since. Did you know that Mama used to cry at nights for you? You couldn’t even bring yourself to attend her funeral. There must be something to this, and I intend to find out what it is.”

Eva sat back and took a sip of coffee, still steaming in the cup. She noticed the pattern, an old Schumann floral, and silently complimented Kitty on her taste.

“You always were a determined child.” Kitty said.

“How would you know?” Eva set her cup down gently, though she would rather smash it to bits. Her anger surprised her, but now was no time to unleash it.

“What has Thekla done to put you in this state?” Kitty waved her hand in dismissal. “No, I know it must be something. I may not know much of you, as you suggest, but I do know Thekla. Tell me what it is and I will answer your question.”

It seemed like a fair bargain. It couldn’t hurt
(could it?)
to tell Kitty about the mirrors. It was her gift to Helena that was causing all the fuss in the first place.

“She has had every mirror removed from the house and I’m afraid it is only the beginning. She is obsessed with protecting Helena from your gift, so much so that I fear she will do more harm than good. You cannot really mean for the girl to die.”

Kitty shifted in her chair again. “If she finds out you’ve been here, she will have a fit.”

“I know. I have no intention of telling her. What we say between us remains between us. I simply must have some answers. I cannot live under her new regime without some insight as to why she hates you so.”

“You are right to think that Thekla hates me. I am sure she does.” Kitty took a breath. “Before I left home, I allowed Thekla to believe that we would be going together.”

Kitty paused again. “I imagine she was very hurt when I did not take her with me.”

Eva was floored. How could Kitty have been so cruel? There was more truth to the matter of Kitty’s wicked ways than she’d suspected.

“Do not judge me too harshly. Wouldn’t you like to know why I acted as I did?”

Since Kitty was talking, Eva decided to listen. She raised her chin, giving the slightest indication that Kitty should continue.

“We all had a very difficult time after Louis died.”

Kitty paused for moment and closed her eyes, as though searching for the strength to continue there behind her lids.

“Thekla, I think now, had the hardest time of it, though she brought most of it on herself. She was wearing herself ragged taking care of you all. She was only eleven years old and I feared for her health. I suggested she might leave with me to distract her from her self-imposed duties. It worked, if only for a time.”

“And then you left without her. What did you think that would do to her?”

Eva could not imagine how betrayed Thekla must have felt, but she was beginning to understand why her sister had held her grudge against Kitty for all of these many years. She would have, too.

“I don’t know. I was selfish
—
yes, I admit it. I could not stay there any longer.”

“Well, that certainly explains some things. I can’t say I approve, but I do appreciate your honesty. However,” Eva cleared her throat, “you’ve still not answered all of my questions. Do you intend for your gift to harm Helena?”

Kitty gazed at the window and out of it, lost for a moment in her thoughts.

“Leave it to Thekla to take my gift at face value and then blow it out of proportion. I can assure you,” Kitty said, “that my gift will not harm the child.”

It was all she would say.

Eva, sensing the conversation was over, rose to her feet. Kitty nodded her goodbye as Karl showed Eva to the door.

Eva, on the step, watched it close behind her. The latch clicked, the birds perched on the porch began singing and the sun came out from behind a cloud. These things fell into Eva—an end and a beginning. It was a new era for them all.

Kitty had seen her sister coming, but had got no sense of what the visit would be about. Eva was not, of course, the toddler Kitty remembered. She’d felt like a mouse, trapped by a cat with one swipe of her paw. Kitty flinched and rubbed her hands together as her knuckles pressed through her skin like little rusted knives. The old familiar ache was creeping through her thighs and her vision blurred with pain. Kitty had missed all of the years that had made Eva the woman who’d sat across from her, waiting for an answer. Kitty had been willing to have the conversation, if only to give Eva a measure of peace, but there were places she still would not go, not even if asked. Kitty had to bear this burden alone.

Kitty did not dream that night. Her sleep was filled with memory, flashes like in a picture show, still-lifes flickering one by one in front of her vision. A moment of Louis and then Magdalena, there Eva as a child, there Papa before his demise, his black coat still neatly pressed, even though sorrow had him all wrinkled up.

If she could go back far enough, she would topple a tree on that golden sleigh, tear Ludwig from the seat, and leave him lying in the drifts of snow that had piled beneath the window. She would have listened for his knock and answered the door, told him to be on his way. No matter that he was king or mad—she did not care. She would do anything to keep that night from happening. Why had the blizzard ever blown him in?

He would have snared her brother anyway, she reasoned in her half-stupor, as consciousness crept over her and then slid off again. It was not that night, but another, far fouler night, that she must prevent. As sleep began to claim her, she saw Louis’ lifeless face hanging just beneath the surface of the lake.

Thekla’s design became clear as time went on. After the mirrors and the locks on the doors, she had every sharp object in the house removed, except for those needed by Hope to manage her cooking. When they took Helena’s favorite music box away because of its sharp brass corners, Helena tore down the hallway curtains in her outrage. Even that did not stop Thekla. She would do anything to keep Helena safe from Kitty’s gift, she said, and everyone soon realized she meant it.

It was a slow progression. Some days the sisters woke to find carpenters in the back hall, sanding and painting the woodwork. Other times men appeared on the roof, nailing down slate or removing it, and once Thekla even had a crew rip out the roses. The thorns, she said, posed a hazard to Helena. The roses, unconcerned, reappeared the very next day. Each year brought a new surprise, another change, another bit of their home remade anew, or
modernized
, as Thekla liked to say.

Eva was not fooled. She knew what drove Thekla, but also knew that Kitty hadn’t told the entire tale those few years ago. Kitty had said it herself
—
Eva was better off not knowing the whole truth. Eva doubted that, but a confrontation with Thekla would not end well and Kitty had said all she would. Eva had always believed that it was Louis’ death that had severed the family, but she found herself wondering if something else might have cut even more deeply into their roots. All roads led to Louis, but he was dead.

Only the sisters survived, and they now lived in fear. Its cold blanket wrapped around their shoulders and the routines they had established as a family were all but gone. Thekla was distant, the others grouped in twos and threes and the bonds between them all were quietly fraying.

Everything was connected, somehow. If Eva could piece it all together, she would be able to stop Thekla from bringing the whole house down around their heads. Thekla seemed precariously close to madness, and these crazy schemes of hers could not be good for the child. The house had been stripped of anything useful; it was more like a prison than a home, all for a gift none understood in the first place. That was it
—
they were guessing at Kitty’s intent, even Thekla. Especially Thekla, though she did have good reason to suspect the worst. Helena would certainly bear watching. None of this would be happening if it were not for her gift. Maybe it was she who held the key.

None of them had what Eva would call a close relationship with their prodigy. Helena, at eleven years of age, was perfection itself. She could also be perfectly nasty. She was gorgeous and graceful, intelligent and exquisitely talented, but the sisters were not so proud of their creation these days.

They never spoke out loud of it, but one of them should have thought to give Helena kindness, or love, or at least a little bit of compassion. As far as Eva could tell, she had none. Perhaps eight had been too many gifts; they crowded out everything else. They all agreed that Helena was precisely what they had made her. Not one drop of anything else had grown within her.

It could be that Helena was the only one who would ever know the truth of Kitty’s gift, but by then it might be too late. The best Eva had done was to trade death for sleep, and even she did not know what that might really mean.

Sleep rather than death? If and when Helena woke, she might still die the moment her eyes opened. It was a horrible thought and one Eva did not want to follow, though she was sure there was something at its end. It was a muddle and high time, Eva felt, to take matters into her own hands.

Eva found Hope, as usual, in the kitchen. Hope was preparing a batch of fresh bread and had flour up to her elbows.

“Do you ever leave this room?” Eva teased her as she wiped crumbs from the cutting board into the sink. She liked to help in the kitchen, though Hope often chased her away.

Hope was always the same, no matter how anything changed. Eva looked at their old housekeeper, saw hair as grey as her own, the neat apron tied around her thick waist and her stoic expression, intent on the bread.

“Hope, you spend a lot of time with Helena.” Easy, she thought. Let’s not say too much. “Have you noticed anything unusual about her?”

“Unusual?” Hope chuckled.

“You know what I mean,” Eva said, perhaps too sharply.