Beneath the Apple Leaves(41)

“After Hanson’s wife died, something happened to that man. Like all the bad things he done to people came outta his skin, like he was going crazy with rage. I was young at the time, but my sisters said they’d see Claire heading to school bleeding most days, bruised nearly all the time. Then she stopped coming altogether. Ma went up there a couple times, but no one answered the door. She’d leave food on their front steps on Sundays, but never knew if or who ate it.”

Pieter gave a clean spit to the ground. “Then about ten years ago, Hanson was found shot in the back, lying in the puddle near the house. No one ever figured out who did it. The man made so many enemies could have been anyone.”

Pieter’s face shifted again face tightened with anger. “Frank Morton stepped up soon after and married Claire straightaway. Took over Hanson’s loans and property before the dust settled on the grave. Turned out to be as ruthless as Hanson.”

Pieter’s sudden vehemence shocked him. A rush of heat simmered down his nerves and he pulled Pieter to a stop by the arm. “Is he hitting those women?”

“No, nothing like that,” Pieter scoffed. “Not that I know of, anyway. Doubt Lilith would let him put a hand on her or her sister. She’s a tough cookie, that one.” He winked. “Once I saw some boys throwing rocks at a cat they had cornered and she came charging at them with a stick half her size. She came screaming like a banshee, swinging that stick at their backs till they ran crying. And these weren’t little boys, either, near men.”

Pieter laughed at that before turning serious again. “There was a farm about ten miles north from here. Norwegian family named Paulsen. Nice family. There was a girl there, Mary.” He fell into thought for a moment, a long, pained moment. “She and Lily were friends. Lily usually kept to herself, but she and Mary got on. We were all friends, playing in the woods like kids do. But Mary was my girl. Pa always made a fuss about her not being German, but inside he liked her as much as everybody else.”

His voice dropped. “Paulsens got in debt with Frank and lost the farm. Lost everything and had to move back to Minnesota. Still remember seeing Mary, couldn’t even look at me as they drove away in that wagon, kids and pots and chairs piled high. And at the auction—when they were rattling off all their farm stuff—who you think was sitting front and center picking at the bones?”

“Frank?”

“No.” He stepped forward and glowered. “Lily. Raising her number for everything Mary used to own. Dresses. Jewelry. Even the tea set she played with as a girl.

“Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do or who to like.” He pointed up the lane. “But there’s a lot of demons up that way. Better to stay clear of them all.” Pieter twisted his mouth. “Said you got apples at your place, about all you got, right? Well, you know what they say about apples . . . don’t fall far from the tree.”

The two men inched down a deep slope, the boot soles sliding in the underbrush. “You play baseball?” Pieter asked suddenly.

“Used to.”

“What position?”

“Pitcher.”

“Yeah? We got a game coming up against the Hornets, team on the other side of town. Play every week. You in?”

He hadn’t touched a baseball since the accident, probably couldn’t throw straight if he wanted. “There’s a lot of work to do. Doubt it.”

Pieter studied him. “All right. Think about it. We got the only Germans on our side and the other boys act like they’re going to war against us at every bat. Feel good to teach them a lesson now and then.”

“Maybe I’ll come and watch.” He smirked and challenged, “Maybe I’ll bring Lily with me.”

Pieter grew quiet. “You’ll see Lily’s not welcomed too many places, Andrew.” Any chiding faded away and he was quite serious. “Might want to align yourself with a different girl.”

“Skeletons or not,” Andrew defended, “she seems fine to me.”

“Still haven’t figured it out yet, have you.” It wasn’t a question but an accusation. “The truth about Claire?”

“Truth?”

“About who she is.”

“She’s Lily’s sister.” Andrew put his hand to his hip, tiring of the riddles. “And a sweet one at that.”

“Yeah. She’s Lily’s sister,” Pieter agreed, then lowered his voice. “She’s also her mother.”

*

Dinner with the Muellers ran late into the night with laughter and stomachs nearly breaking at the sides from food. They kept eating and drinking stout and telling stories and the Kisers did not want to leave. But when they did, the family held on to the memories of the evening as they traversed the quiet miles back to the homestead. Pieter had whittled toy trains for Edgar and Will, and when they blew through the center holes a perfect train whistle sounded.

Three awake, four asleep—Eveline carried the twins, Wilhelm had Will and Andrew carried little Edgar, the boy clutching the toy train in his tiny fist. Andrew would come back for the piglets tomorrow.

The evening air danced between summer and autumn and when they returned home, the house was cool and each curled into light blankets to warm tired bodies. And Wilhelm, still thick with drink, and Eveline, still high from schnapps, touched each other under the covers until Eveline opened her body to her husband and they made love upon the creaking springs like they had when they were young.