9
Nora spun around and found herself face-to-face with a petite woman in her early fifties, with short salt-and-pepper hair, her delicate frame draped in peach pajamas.
“Can we help—” the woman began, but then she looked at Nora, really looked at her, and her face split into a warm smile. “I don’t believe it.” She turned her attention to Charlie and nodded, a surprised laugh escaping her lips. Then she pivoted to face the growing crowd in the street. “It’s all right, everyone. Martin’s kids have come home.”
* * *
Nora braved her second cup of coffee that morning with growing resignation. She and Charlie sat at a tall kitchen island in the house of the woman from the road, who had introduced herself as Patricia. Patty if you’re a friend. Ricki if you wanted to be cute about it. Patsy if you absolutely never wanted her to speak to you again. Patricia/Patty/Ricki/Definitely-Not-Patsy had insisted the twins come to her home, and after she mentionedsomething about having a first aid kit with which to properly attend to them, Nora had agreed.
The house was compact and leaned heavily on its relative proximity to the beach when it came to decor. Crisp white walls and tasteful smatterings of driftwood and seashells with the odd pop of something blue. It was neither newly appointed nor obviously dated, and the muted, elegant, yet slightly rugged interior seemed to match the woman who resided there.
Nora was the first to speak, as much out of genuine interest as an excuse to procrastinate a second sip of coffee. “You knew our dad?”
Patty—because Nora decided she didn’t want to be cute about it—gave a grin. “Of course I knew Marty.”
Nora dug the photo Charlie had given her from the pocket of her coat and placed it on the island. She pointed to the small-statured young woman under her father’s arm. “That’s you, isn’t it?”
Patty nodded. “Gosh, where’d you find that? I haven’t seen that photo in years.”
“Our bubbie held on to it for us.”
“Your bub—oh, your mom’s mom, I suppose. You wouldn’t have met your other grandmother, would you?”
“No, Bubbie was our only family after…”
“We heard what happened, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”
Nora’s eyes turned back to the photo, and she forced herself to focus.
“But you knew him.”
Another smile. “He really never mentioned us, eh?”
Charlie gulped down the remainder of the coffee in his cup and chimed in. “Did you date him or something?”
Another light laugh. “Well now, that’s the first time I’ve been accused ofthat. No, dear, Marty was my brother.”
This immediately sobered Charlie up and forced Nora’s attention away from the photo. “What?” they spat in unison.
“Yup. The baby by five years. That’s me there, and that”—she prodded a finger at the young man on the other side of their father—“is Charles. The monkey in the middle. You’ll meet him at some point, I’m sure.”
“That…” Nora stopped and tried again. “That doesn’t make sense. Dad said he was an only child. Sorry,” she added at the flash of hurt in Patty’s eyes.
“Your father did what he felt was right, I’m sure,” said Patty. “Families are complicated. Ours is certainly no different.”
Something new flared up in Nora then. Something she hadn’t felt about the injustices of life in a long while: anger. “He should have told us,” she said. “We should have known.” All those years when it was just Bubbie and the twins against the world. And then after Bubbie died and Charlie was even more Charlie than before, and Nora was alone…she could have had people. She could have had family.
“Well, I’m right glad you’re here now. You have so many folks to meet. What brought you all the way out here, anyway?”
The twins exchanged a glance. Nora shook her head and gave her brother a look that said, “Bite your tongue.” They had only just met this woman, they couldn’t trust her with the truth, and more than that, there was no reason for her to believe them about something so outlandish.
“Charlie gave me that photo for my birthday,” Nora said.
“Ourbirthday,” Charlie interjected.
“Our birthday. We saw the location on the back and thoughtmaybe we could see where Dad grew up. He always told us he was from small-town Nova Scotia, but we couldn’t remember exactly where, so when we found that information, it seemed like the right time to trace our roots.” It wasn’t a complete lie, Nora decided.
“Goodness, well, I’m glad you made the trek. But you must be exhausted. Unfortunately I don’t have any extra rooms, it’s just little old me here, but why don’t you two shower and rest on the couches for a bit. When you’re back up and running, we can make some introductions and find you somewhere to stay. Any idea how long you’ll be with us?”
