Aunt Ruth stops chewing her food to roll her eyes. “Apple May, yes. Don’t remind me.”
“You did?” My mother looks surprised.
“Yeah. At the infirmary during my recovery. She really had it out for me.”
“What? You never told me that. What happened?” Mom asks.
Uncle Warrose and Aunt Ruth exchange a look before she responds.
“We all had a lot going on during that time. After the war. Ah, let’s see.” Aunt Ruth dabs her napkin along her lips. “She tormented me a few times.”
“Details,” my mother insists.
“Not at the dinner table.”
“Why was she tormenting you?!” I ask.
“A couple reasons. I was getting more attention than her for my injuries. And, well, she was an incredibly vain woman. She was attracted to Uncle Warrose, and he clearly didn’t feel the same.”
Krimson and I bust out laughing. The distraction of a positive feeling doesn’t outweigh the bad ones, but it does help.
“No need to laugh that hard,” Uncle Warrose says with a glare.
We laugh harder.
“Then when she threatened to go afteryou, Skylenna, I…”
We all lean forward, collectively very invested in this story.
“What?” My mother blurts out.
“Aunt Ruth clawed Apple May’s eyes out with her thumbs,” Uncle Warrose finally reveals.
“Jesus!” I slap my hand down on the table.
Aunt Ruth waves off the gasps. “Back to that dining party with Meridei. Helovedto put on a performance, didn’t he?” she snickers into her hand.
I glance down the hall paneled with dark red oak, exhaling against the ominous energy floating along the walls and into his room like a cemetery of disgruntled spirits.
“What’d he do?” my brother asks. This part is not in the history books. So, when we hear about new stories regarding our father, Krimson is always the first to ask. I’d rather leave well enough alone.
My mom shifts in her seat. “It’s not appropriate for the dinner ta—”
“He made them think he poisoned their champagne!” Uncle Niles announces excitedly. “But he just made them puke their guts out and have…you know, diarrhea!”
Grandpa promptly pinches the back of his arm to which Uncle Niles hisses and pulls away.
“Why’d he do that?” Niklaus asks on this rare occasion. He never wants to hear about my father. In fact, neither of us do. It’s the one thing we have in common.
Grandpa and my aunts and uncles all turn to look at Mom. And there’s this weight in the air. A blanket of respect that seems to fall over the table.
Mom sets her glass down. “They were mistreating and bullying me for trying to stop the cruel treatments in the asylum.”
Niklaus levels his gaze with hers. “And he came up with that plan to ruin their dinner party when you told him about their mistreatment?”
“I didn’t have to. He saved me from their hazing methods every time. He saw what they were doing to me and wanted to make them suffer for it.”
Aunt Ruth turns to Krimson and me. “Your father was a cold, calculating man… But when your mother walked into a room, that ice would melt for her. He was terrifying to all except her.”
