The Good Twin(59)

“John wrote and told us. They were going to get married when he returned on leave, but then he was killed. We were so distraught, I’m sure you can understand. But after his funeral, after a few weeks had gone by, we called Susan. We wanted her to know that we hoped to be part of our grandchild’s life. Only she was gone. Disappeared.”

“Her mother kicked her out because she wouldn’t have an abortion.”

“If only she’d come to us. We would have taken her in. We would have cared for her and the baby.”

“Babies, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have an identical twin sister. She’s sitting right next to me.”

“Hi, I’m Mallory.”

Ellen burst out crying. Through her sobs, she managed to get out, “Two of John’s children, two pieces of John, and we never knew.”

I waited for her to calm down. “Ellen, I’m in the car now, driving. Is it okay if I call you back later?”

“Oh, yes, I want to hear all about you both. And, I hope, maybe we could meet?”

“I’d like that.”

“So would I,” Mallory chimed in.

“My father is very ill now,” I continued, “and I’m helping care for him, so it will have to be when . . . when it’s resolved.”

“Of course, of course. I’m just so happy you called. I know John Senior will be, also.”

So, my grandfather was alive as well. Over the past few weeks, my family had increased by three. As I disconnected the call, I glanced over at Mallory. Her brows were knitted together, and her eyes glistened. “Are you okay?”

“If Mom hadn’t run away, my life would have been so different. She wouldn’t have always struggled to provide a home, to buy food. Maybe she would have gone to college. I would have had grandparents.” Suddenly, her eyes widened. “We would have been together! Mom wouldn’t have given you away.” She shook her head, then leaned it against the window.

Mallory was right. If our grandparents had taken in our mother, provided her a home and a place to raise her daughters, I wouldn’t have been adopted. I would have grown up with my biological mother and twin sister and two grandparents. I would have been raised in a working-class home without the luxuries and opportunities my adoptive parents had given me. I’d grown up pampered and had been happy. As much as I’d wanted to learn about my history, about my biological roots, I realized I wouldn’t have wanted to exchange my life for the alternate one Mallory had presented. I wanted my life of wealth.

I was glad my mother had given me away.





CHAPTER 41

I’d begun to question my decision to hold off Ben’s arrest. As my father’s condition deteriorated, I knew the time was drawing close for Ben’s hit man to strike. I’d lie in bed at night, my murderous husband next to me, and tremble. What if he purposely gives Mallory the wrong night? What if the hit man eludes the police? And the scariest thought of all: What if the detective was right about Mallory, that she wants me dead to take it all? When I had those worries, I thought it was crazy to allow Ben’s plan to go forward. I’d lie awake, afraid to close my eyes. When morning would finally come and I’d see Ben’s smug pretense at caring about me, about my father, my resolve would return. I would do what was needed to ensure he was punished for his crime.



A week after the visit to Lauren, I arrived at my father’s apartment just before 7:00 p.m. and was met by Janice, his hospice nurse, as soon as I let myself in. “Your father’s condition has deteriorated,” she told me. “It’s just a matter of days now—maybe three or four at the most.”

I slumped down onto the couch and buried my head in my hands. I’d known the time was near, but putting a date on it felt like a punch to my stomach. “How can you tell? How can you be sure?”

“I’ve been doing this a very long time, dear. I know the signs. His breathing has changed, his pulse is rapid, and his blood pressure has dropped. He’s also showing confusion when he’s awake.”

I fought to hold back tears. “Is he awake now?”

“No. He’s sleeping. But when he does wake up, and you go in to see him, you’ll hear a faint rattling sound in his chest. Don’t be alarmed. It’s because his muscles have weakened, and it’s hard for him to move mucus and phlegm through his lungs. I’ve given him medicine to make it a little easier. Also, his confusion might make him agitated, and he’ll say things that make no sense. It’s common at this stage. Try to ignore the things he says, even if it’s hateful.”

“Dad would never say anything mean to me.”

“He’s not himself now. He may accuse you of lying or cheating him, but that’s a symptom of the disease.”

I had to call Poppy. It was time for him to fly north again. I knew he would want to be by Dad’s side when the end came. My chest ached with the realization that I would soon be an orphan, yet I knew it had to be even worse for my grandfather. No parent should ever have to bury a child. It completely subverted the natural order of how life should be.

He answered the phone on the first ring. When I told him he needed to come back to New York and explained why, I could hear his breath catch, and then silence. “Are you okay, Poppy?”