"You'll say what's right," he assured her. "I'm curious as to whether or not she ever remembered you or your parents."
"I just hope we can find her. What if she's no longer in DC?"
"Then it will take longer."
Julia kissed him on the cheek. "I like your confidence. You make me believe in the impossible. Thanks."
"No problem." He returned his gaze to the computer, but he wasn't thinking about the information on the screen; he was thinking about Julia. She was making him believe in the impossible, too.
It was a cool crisp September day in Washington DC. The cab ride from the airport was long and nerve-racking after an equally long and nerve-racking flight. They'd hit lots of turbulence, which had done nothing to calm Julia's upset stomach. But at least they were here, and they had come armed with one address, that of the DC Ballet Company, located near the John F. Kennedy Center of Performing Arts. On the Internet, they'd discovered her sister's name, Elaine Harrigan, listed among the former stars of the company. Unfortunately, there had been no photo. Not that Julia needed to know what her twin sister looked like. All she had to do was gaze in the mirror.
"You're missing all the sights, the White House, the Washington Monument, the Capitol," Alex told her. "What's so fascinating about your hands?"
Julia realized she was still staring down at her tightly clasped fingers. "I was just thinking." She lifted her head. "And worrying about what's coming next."
"Hopefully a reunion with your sister."
"I want that—I think. I'm nervous. What will I say? What will she say? Then I worry that we won't find her at all."
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Stop trying to predict the future."
It was good advice, and she wanted to take it. She looked out the window just as the Kennedy Center came into view. It was a beautiful, magnificent building set on the banks of the Potomac River. Her sister had probably danced there, Julia thought. Just like their mother, she'd taken to the stage, danced her heart out, and probably drawn the applause of thousands.
The cab passed by the center and a few blocks later stopped in front of a two-story building with white columns and a fountain in front of it. A sign over the door read DC BALLET COMPANY. Alex gave the driver money to wait for them. Julia kept her large handbag with her. She had a tight grip on it, knowing that even though they'd flown across the country, someone might still be on their tail.
They entered the building and stopped at the information desk in the lobby.
"Can I help you?" a young woman asked.
"We'd like to speak to whoever is in charge." Alex offered her a charming smile, and the woman responded immediately.
"That would be Mrs. Kay," she said. "Can I tell her what this is regarding?"
"Elaine Harrigan," Alex said. "She danced here several years ago. We're relatives of hers, and we're trying to find her. Do you think Mrs. Kay could give us a few minutes of her time? It's very important."
"I'll see if she's available." The receptionist made a brief call, then put down the phone. "You're in luck. She'll see you. Down the hall, second door on the left."
"Thank you," Alex said.
Julia felt herself growing more tense as they walked down the hall. She paused at the first door, glancing in at a large studio with hardwood floors and wall-to-wall mirrors. A group of six women in black leotards was going through a routine. She could hear music in the background and the sharp voice of an instructor. The dancers were all thin but strong, and their faces showed the same resolute determination, reminding Julia that professional ballet was not for the faint of heart. An old memory came back as she saw one girl unlace her ballet slipper. In her mind, she saw her mother taking off her slipper to reveal a bloody big toe. She'd simply wiped it off, bandaged it up, and put the slipper back on.
"Come on," Alex urged, pulling her away. "Let's find Mrs. Kay."
The door to the next room was half-open. A woman stood with her back to them. She was looking out the window behind her desk and talking on the phone. Alex knocked. She turned around and waved them in with an impatient hand.
With the woman still focused on her phone call, Julia had a chance to study Mrs. Kay. She had to be in her sixties. Her hair, a beautiful, vibrant white, was cut short, just past her ears. She was very thin, showing all of her fine bones. Her body was lanky, her legs long. She was probably a dancer, too, or had been. Finally, she set the phone down.
She smiled and said, "Elaine, I haven't seen you in a while. I thought Judy said some of your relatives were here. She must have gotten confused."
Julia gulped. This woman thought she was Elaine, which meant Mrs. Kay knew her sister.
"Your hair is so short," Mrs. Kay said. "I thought you told me you'd never cut it."
"I'm not Elaine," Julia finally managed to get out. "I'm her sister, Julia."
"What?" Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Is this some sort of joke?"
"I'm Elaine's twin sister."
"That's not possible. You don't have any family."
Julia drew in a deep breath. "I'm telling you the truth. I'm Julia DeMarco. I was separated from my twin sister, Elena—Elaine—many years ago. Now I'm trying to find her. And I hope you can help me."
Mrs. Kay came around her desk, her gaze never leaving Julia's face. "Come over here," she said, "and shake my hand."
It seemed like an odd request, but after a moment's hesitation, Julia moved across the room and did as she asked.
"You aren't Elaine," the older woman said, still holding Julia's hand, "but you're the spitting image, except for your hair."
"She's my identical twin sister."
"Well, that explains it." Mrs. Kay cocked her head to one side, a confused expression lingering on her face.
"Do you know my sister well?" Julia asked.
"Of course. She lived with me for several years. I should introduce myself. I'm Victoria Kay. I run this dance company. You said your name was Julia and—" She gazed at Alex inquiringly.
"Alex Manning," he said.
"Nice to meet you."
"Does Elaine still dance for you?" Julia asked.
"No. You even sound like her. It's amazing." Victoria shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm just so bemused by your appearance. Elaine told me everyone in her family was dead. I know she grew up in foster homes.
I actually became her foster parent when she was fifteen. She was such a gifted dancer, I knew I had to find a way for her to dance. She had a rare talent."
"Why isn't she still dancing? Is it just age? Did she get too old?"
"Heavens, no. She stopped right before the peak of her career. It was five years ago. She was crossing the street, running to meet a date. She was late, and she didn't look where she was going. A car hit her, and she broke both her legs. One was beyond complete repair. She never danced again. In fact, she still walks with a limp." Victoria's eyes filled with regret. "That's how I knew you weren't her—the way you walked. It was so tragic, what happened to her. Elaine was truly special. She didn't just dance to the music. She lived it. And her career was over in the blink of an eye."
Julia felt her heart break at the story. "What happened to her after that?"
"She recovered as best she could. She had to start over, find a new life for herself."
"Do you know where she is now?"
"She runs an antique shop on Carlmont Street in Georgetown. You can probably find her there. I don't think she ever leaves. I'll write down the address for you." Victoria moved toward the desk. "Please tell her I'm thinking about her. You know, she once told me that a piece of her heart was missing. I didn't know what that meant. Now perhaps I do. You're the missing piece."
Julia was still thinking about Victoria's words when they took a taxi to Georgetown. "If Elena told Victoria that her parents and sister were dead, then she must have remembered us," Julia said, looking to Alex for confirmation. "But why did she think I was dead?"
"Maybe the agents told her that. They didn't want
her to look for you."
"That makes sense. It sounds like she grew up alone, though."
"It does," Alex agreed. "I wonder what happened to her foster family."
"Maybe it wasn't a good one. God, I hope she wasn't mistreated or abused. That would be so wrong, so unfair."
"Just remember that whatever happened to Elena, it wasn't your fault, Julia. You were a child, too. You couldn't choose your surroundings any more than she could pick hers."
"I know you're right, but I still feel guilty that I've had such a happy life. And that accident she had sounds horrible."
"Life can deal out some bad cards," Alex said. "She had to play them out. So did you."
"Now we have the chance to start over, don't you think?" Alex didn't respond to her hopeful smile, his face grim. "What are you thinking?"
"That you could get hurt. Elena may not welcome you with open arms."
"She thinks I'm dead, Alex. When she realizes I'm alive, she'll be happy, won't she?"
"I guess we'll find out," he replied.
Julia looked out the window, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of the neighborhood, the brownstones, the redbrick streets and buildings, the shops, galleries, and restaurants. At least her sister lived in a wonderful area. She must be reasonably successful. Maybe her life hadn't turned out all bad.
The taxi pulled up in front of a store called River View Antiques. As Julia got out of the cab, she forced herself to breathe deeply. She was about to come face-to-face with her past. She didn't know if she was ready, but it was too late to have second thoughts. Alex put a hand on her back and gave her a gentle push.
As they entered the store, a bell jangled. On first glance all Julia could see was stuff. Large pieces of furniture, bookcases, dressers, tables, and antique desks lined the walls. On every available tabletop were knickknacks from decades past: silver teapots, antique jewelry, old picture frames, and ceramic dishes. The room smelled like dust, incense, potpourri, and history. All of these items had once belonged to someone. They probably had fascinating stories to tell. But she wasn't here to browse. She was here to see her sister. "Hello," she called out.
"Be right there," a woman replied.
The voice sounded familiar, or was Julia imagining it?
A moment later, a woman came through a beaded curtain to greet them. She wore black capri pants and a light blue silk button-down blouse. She walked with a slight limp. Her blond hair was pulled back in a barrette at the base of her neck, but it drifted down to her waist, reminding Julia of her mother's hair.
"Hello—" The woman stopped abruptly as she looked straight at Julia. Her blue eyes grew big and scared. "Oh, my God! It can't be you."
Julia couldn't find her voice. All she could do was stand there and stare.
Elena stared back at her. She blinked once, twice, as if she could make Julia disappear.
They were mirror images of each other, the same height, the same build, the same blue eyes, the same nose, the same chin. Only the length of their hair was different. Julia swallowed hard. Even though she had known what was coming, she still felt shocked by the reality.
"I don't understand," Elena said. "You're supposed to be dead. Everyone is dead, Mama, Papa, and you. I'm the only one left. They told me so, over and over again. This is crazy. I must be dreaming. You can't be real, Yulia."
Hearing the Russian version of her name spoken in Elena's soft voice, which was so similar to her own, made Julia's stomach turn over. This was her sister. Her blood. And she remembered her now in vivid detail.
"I'm alive," Julia said. "And I'm real. This isn't a dream." She hesitated, then opened her arms and held her breath, hoping that Elena wouldn't reject her. She really needed to touch her sister, to know with her heart what she could see with her eyes.
Chapter 20
Elena moved slowly, uncertainly, finally putting her arms around Julia and giving her a tentative, brief hug. Julia would have liked to hold on, but Elena was already stepping away. They stared at each other again. It would probably take days for reality to sink in, but as the seconds ticked away, memories that had been buried deep within Julia came rushing to the front of her mind. She'd shared a bedroom with Elena, sometimes a bed when one of them had been too scared to sleep alone. They'd played together, fought together, laughed together, and cried together. How could she have ever forgotten Elena? They weren't just sisters, but twins. They were a part of each other, born together, meant to be together forever. Instead, they'd been torn apart, and twenty-five years was a long time.
"Where—where have you been all these years?" Elena asked finally.
Julia didn't know where to start. It was such a long, complicated story. "San Francisco," she said. "I was taken there after we left Russia."
"That's a long way from here. Why were you taken there, and I was brought here? Did they tell you I was dead?"
How could Julia say she hadn't been told anything and she hadn't remembered anyone? It sounded wrong. But she had to say something. Elena was waiting. "I was raised by a woman named Sarah. She told me I was her daughter, and I guess at some point I bought into the story. I don't know when it happened. Until yesterday, I couldn't think of a time when Sarah and I weren't together. She married a man and had another daughter, and we were a family."
"I don't understand. You didn't remember me?"
Julia felt another wave of guilt. She wanted to lie, if only to save Elena from being hurt by her words, but she couldn't let another falsehood be told. "I didn't remember anything until I heard your name yesterday. Then it all came back. I remembered the day Mama told us we were going to be apart. I remember how scared we were."
Elena stared back at her. "I don't remember that. I don't remember our parents at all. I just have blurry images of people whose faces never become clear enough for me to recognize. But your face was always clear. I never forgot about you. Are our parents really dead? If you're not, then—"
"No, that part is true. They died before we left Russia."
"Are you sure? They told me they died when we got here." Elena stopped, her eyes troubled. "Do you know about them? I asked and asked, but no one would tell me anything, not even their names. I just think of them as Mama and Papa."
"We have a lot to talk about." Julia saw Elena dart a quick look at Alex and realized she'd forgotten he was standing there. "I'm sorry. This is Alex Manning," she said. "He helped me find you. Do you go by Elaine now, instead of Elena?"
"I thought I'd always been Elaine, but now that you mention it…"
"You used to be Elena, and I was Yulia, but now I'm Julia with a J. I guess they wanted us to have more American names."
"I guess so," Elena said slowly. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Manning."
"It's even nicer to meet you," he replied. "Is there anywhere we could talk?"
Before she could answer, the bell behind them jangled, and a curly-haired young man in his early twenties wearing baggy jeans and an extra-large T-shirt walked through the door. "What's up?" he said to Elena, then did a double take when he saw Julia. "What the—"
"This is my sister," Elena said quickly.
"I thought you didn't have any family."
"We've been separated for a long time. I need to take a break. Can you watch the store, Colin?"
Colin couldn't take his eyes off Julia. "She looks exactly like you, except your hair is longer."
"I know. I'll explain later. And I'll be upstairs if you need me." She turned to Julia. "My apartment is on the second floor. We can talk there."
Julia nodded. As Elena mounted the stairs, her limp became more pronounced, reminding Julia that Elena had suffered more than one loss in her life. They had so much to discover about each other, and Julia wanted to know everything.
Elena's apartment was not as stuffed with items as her shop, but it was still warm and cluttered, with knickknacks and colorful but mismatched furniture.
"I wasn't expecting anyone." Elena grabbed a basket of laundry off th
e couch. "Just sit down somewhere," she said as she headed toward the bedroom.
Julia glanced at Alex. "Well, what do you think?"
"I would have recognized her anywhere," he said with a smile. "It's hard to believe there really are two of you. Double the fun."
She sighed at that. "Let me know when we start having fun. I feel so unsettled. My stomach is churning. I don't even know how to explain it all to Elena."
"You'll find a way."
Julia hoped he was right.
When Elena returned, they sat down together in the large room that seemed to serve as living room and dining room, with a small kitchenette off to the side. After a moment, Julia said, "Why don't you start first, Elena. Tell me what happened to you when you got to the States."
Elena stared down at her hands, clasped tightly together in her lap. "I went to a foster home, the O'Rourkes'. I lived there for three years, I think. Then they got divorced and couldn't be foster parents anymore, so I was sent to another home. That's pretty much the way it went for the rest of my childhood. I was moved every couple of years for one reason or another. It was not a happy time for me. The only place I loved was ballet class. No matter where I lived, I always managed to talk my way into a class by either trading chores for the teacher or begging a lot. When I was fifteen, I got into a bad situation at one home, and I ran away. I hid out at the ballet academy where I had taken some lessons. Mrs. Kay found me. She took me in, became my foster parent, and helped me become a dancer." She paused, a dark shadow crossing her face. "Now I run an antique store. Your turn."
Julia knew Elena had left out a lot of her life, but it was enough for a start. "I was raised as Julia DeMarco. My mother, Sarah, never told me I was adopted, and as I said before, I didn't remember anything but the story she constructed for us. She married an Italian man, Gino DeMarco, when I was five. They had a baby girl named Elizabeth. We grew up together. I never thought I was anything but a member of the family, until I saw a photograph of a famous Russian orphan girl. I thought it was a picture of me. It was taken by Alex. I started researching the photo, and it turns out it wasn't me at all. It was you."
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