The Last Maharajan (Romantic Thriller/Women's Fiction) (8 page)

After that, she and Enaya were different. They stood apart from the other girls with creamy milk-fed skin who ate mashed potatoes and gravy. It was at that young age she remembered feeling strange. For Euly it was like having a noose around her neck.

The teasing followed her into high school and she hated it there too. She wanted to fast-forward life into college where she thought people might be different, smarter, involved with learning and not only concerned about being popular. But, why she hadn’t told the others girls her heritage was her mother’s, from her mother’s side of the genetic stitch, she hadn’t a clue. Belle was a mix of English, Irish and Dutch. And, because of the mix in gene pools, they didn’t look different, aside from a fewer poisonous reminders from her slip in elementary school, they were no worse for the wear.

In college, there was a wild mix of ethnicities shapes and colors and Euly no longer stood out as odd. Plus, when she did reveal her background, people didn’t seem to care or, at least, it wasn’t profound like it was when she and her friends were seven. Anyway, those days it was the blacks and Jews getting the brunt of bigotry, they were the ones collectively treated as second-class citizens, not people like Euly and Enaya, not then. Sometimes honesty didn’t pay. The memories flooded back as she watched the sun closing out another day.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

She looked older. Euly detected the finest lines around Enaya’s sea green eyes but she still looked good. She wondered why someone with the color of her eyes didn’t live near the ocean the way Euly did. Backwards, she thought. Enaya, the one with ocean-eyes, living in the desert and Euly, with her brown eyes, living on an island. It was backwards. Euly pulled at her sleeve when she noticed wrinkles set in at her shirt’s elbows. She compared how Enaya was ordered, the proper way she sat in her chair, her beige linen suit looking fresh, her short cropped hair thick and pulled perfectly behind her ears and, her earlobes, studded with what looked to be two-carat diamonds in each. “Jimmy.”

Euly’s attention was distracted and she looked into her sister’s eyes. “Hmm?”

“Jimmy, he got them for me.” She flicked at one of her lobes. She’d seen her looking at the earrings. Euly angled her eyes down to the table. “Said they put him back a pretty penny.” There it was, the expected jab to let Euly know in one of her many ways how much money they made.

“Well, they’re lovely.”

Right away, Euly felt uncomfortable. She didn’t have clothes for the desert anymore. She wore a long-sleeved jersey top and jeans. Her boots looked urbane but were more suited for Seattle than Phoenix. She had a tight silk scarf around her neck that began to get hot, even hotter, so she untied it and let it hang loosely on her shoulders. She was tired from traveling. The waiter came back to the table expecting them to order.

“I’ll have the Pinot Gris.” Enaya folded her menu and handed it to the waiter making sure not to make eye contact with him. Euly couldn’t help but feel a pang of disgust.

“I’ll have the Cab, thank you.” She smiled directly at the man and he thanked them both for the order with a tip of his head, first at Euly then at her sister.

“You’re on a fact-finding mission, are you?” Enaya sipped her water then dabbed the corners of her mouth.

“Yeah. Yes.” Euly folded and re-folded her napkin.

“What facts are you trying to scare up?”

She looked at Enaya. Her older face was no less critical. Squinting her eyes the way she did when she didn’t believe something you said, added to her age. A busboy came with a silver pitcher to fill their drinks. Euly whispered thanks to him and grabbed the glass not so much because she was thirsty but to still her thoughts before speaking to Enaya. She wanted to tell her what a bitch she thought she was – how she’d always been an uppity bitch – but Euly took a sip instead.

“Things about our past.” She dug into her bag and brought out the journal and set it next to her plate.

“Things…”

“Yes, things about our family. What really happened.”

Euly sensed her sister’s skepticism grow by the look on her face. Enaya shook her head.

“You’re funny. Always trying to make something out of nothing.”

“You think mother and dad’s divorce is nothing?”

It never failed. Whenever they got together, they got to the meat of it.

“Nothing? No. I wouldn’t say that, Eu.” Euly bristled at the way her sister shortened her name. She was testing her patience. “Not nothing but not something either.”

“Wow, Enaya. You really have a talent for words.” Now, she dug in. Enaya had always been jealous that Euly had become a professional writer, that she was making a living of it. But, Enaya handled herself well.

“So! It’s nice we’ve gotten all of that out of the way.” She smiled because of their little battle. “Really, Euly, it’s good to see you. I miss you, you know?”

“No. I didn’t Enaya. You don’t call all that often so, no, I don’t know. Your distance speaks volumes.”

“Jealous?”

Euly laughed. Her sister had the knack for not assuming the responsibilities others would. She supposed Enaya had good reason. With a family and a career she had a well-stacked plate.

“Maybe but just a little.”

“Really. What are you doing here, Euly?”

“I was visiting with mother the other night. She’s getting a little weepy and forgiving these days but still has a kick, you know.” She opened the journal. The waiter brought their wine glasses and placed them on the table.

“Just a sec.” Enaya ordered. She tasted the wine he’d set in front of her. She nodded and he walked away. “She always gets that way when she knows she’s wrong… or she’s dying, I suppose.”

“Crap, Enaya. Can you at least try to appear sad mother is dying? For me?”

“Sorry, dear. I forget that mother’s favorite is so sensitive these days.”

“Good God, Enaya. Do you always have to be such a raving bitch?”

“And you’re the writer.”

“Don’t try to intimidate me. I’ve earned the title from years of hard work.” She hated how she always ended up defending herself. “You know what? I’m not so hungry after all. Why don’t you go home to your tidy little house and family and read another book. While you’re doing that I’ll be living, exploring, going on another treasure hunt.” She took a long slug of her wine and set it down, eyeing her over the glass. She knew the treasure hunt comment would bite deep. She wiped her mouth removing all her lipstick and pushed out her chair.

“Very nice. Nice drama, nice punch at the end. You shouldn’t have given up acting. Really, Eu, you have talent.”

“Screw off.” She started to leave, and then stopped. She turned and walked back. “First off, this is my hotel. You can leave.”

“This is my city. You can leave.” Enaya enjoyed riling her sister and she let off a smirk.

“I was born here, Enaya. You were born in some cow town in the Midwest. You can leave.”

“Bravo. Now, see? I’m right. You would’ve made a fine actor. I’m always right. I’m your older sister.”

“That makes you always older not always right.”

Euly sat down again. “You leave.”

“No.”

“Then, tell me what you remember, you hag of a sister.” They were on speaking terms again and it felt homey, like they were kids fighting.

“Remember what, brat.”

“About mother and dad. The divorce. Everything. Creep.”

“Everything could take hours. Fat head.”

“I’m not leaving until I find out so I guess I have hours.”

“I don’t.”

“You have until midnight when you turn into a snake again.” Euly glared out a smile.

“I missed you.”

Euly smiled but each knew they weren’t finished. A silly argument had not been settled in the four years since she’d seen her sister. Four years since their grandmother’s death. Things didn’t go as well as they might have with her sister then as Euly recalled. They’d had a stupid fight about who’d get their grandmother’s china. Enaya won when their mother stepped in to decide.

“How’s my china?”

“It’s stunning.”

Euly smirked and settled back into her chair. She re-folded the napkin on her lap, grabbed her glass and drank from it, set it back down and looked at her sister. She pulled out the photo and slid it over to Enaya on the smooth surface of the linen. “Do you remember what led up to the divorce?”

“Yours or mother’s?”

“Come on. I’m serious.”

Enaya was taking her time giving Euly anything. She’d always been like that. She flicked her eyebrows and shrugged. She picked up the photo and squinted for focus, for effect.

“That’s an old one. Where’d you get it?”

“Mother. She’s going through all of her photo albums, one by one, and splitting them up between us.”

“That’s fair.”

Euly neglected to mention her pile was greater and switched the subject. “Hey, do you remember that little girl who drowned?”

“What little girl who drowned?”

“You remember. At the Maharajan.”

Enaya’s eyes opened in recognition.

“Oh yeah. Wasn’t that awful?”

“I remember it in stops and starts. Pieces, you know? I think I’ve filled in a lot that may not be right but, then, maybe not. I don’t know.”

They stopped talking and both seemed to fade into the vision. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I don’t know why.”

“Death.” She examined the photo more closely as she spoke then handed it back to Euly.

“Yeah.”

“No. I mean you’re thinking about death a lot.”

“I suppose.”

“Well, you’re living with it aren’t you. You visit her daily, right?”

“Mother? Yes. I see her every day.”

“Don’t you think that’s why you’re here really, to get away?”

“No. No, I’m here because I want to find out what really happened between them. Why they Geoff.”

Enaya lifted her eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything about Geoff.” Euly looked at her lap and played with her napkin but she didn’t broach the subject. “Look, Eu, they split. Why drum it up again? They were miserable together, remember? They fought all the time.”

“Do you remember that photo?”

“Not really. I was like, what, twelve?”

“Yeah, ten, eleven, twelve, something like that. Oh, and not always.”

“Not always, what?”

“They didn’t always fight.”

“Yes, they did. Always.”

“Not when we were little. Not when that little girl drowned. They didn’t fight then. It was later when we were teenagers, remember?”

“Maybe you’re right. It felt like all the time to me.”

The waiter came back to take their dinner order. Euly ordered something light and Enaya, a steak with au gratin. She always had eaten what she wanted and it never seemed to show unlike Euly who was battling to keep her weight at bay through menopause.

“Where does it all go?”

“I work out.”

After the day’s travel, Euly felt a little tired plus the wine was making its way straight behind her eye sockets.

“Wine’s good, isn’t it?”

“They fought all the time.”

“No they didn’t.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t remember it that way. I remember mother singing to me in the rocker and you playing with the neighbor boys. Remember that? Little Phil and Butchy? You guys always played Tarzan.”

“Wow. I’d forgotten that and when you weren’t sick, you were always Jane, remember?”

“Yeah.” She laughed at the thought. They both did. “You changed.”

“What do you mean?”

“You got all girly. Look at you. You’re nothing like when we were kids.”

“Neither are you.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You were always the little feminine princess, remember? Now, look at you. You look like a correspondent in Iraq with that vest and those readers on your head.”

“Shut up!” Enaya had given her the verbal equivalent of a poke in the ribs.

“’Here, in Baghdad, the fighting heightens. The hovel behind me looks a lot like my office…’”