Charles clasped his hands together as he rested his elbows on the table. "Your parents made their plans very carefully. For two years they plotted how to leave Russia. It was rumored that they had something valuable to sell, something priceless that would provide them with enough money to live on once they were granted asylum here."
"What was that something?"
"I wasn't cleared for that kind of classified information, so I don't know."
"How could my parents have had something priceless in communist Russia during the Cold War?" Julia tried to remember what she'd learned in world history in high school. "Who were they?"
"Your mother, Natalia—"
"Natalia? That was her name?" A distant memory flashed in Julia's head, a man calling impatiently for Natalia.
"Yes, Natalia Markov. And your father's name was Sergei." Charles paused. "Natalia was a featured ballerina at the Bolshoi Ballet. She was the third generation ballet dancer in the family. Natalia's grandmother, Tamara Slovinsky, danced for the Imperial Court before the revolution. She was in so much favor that she received many valuable presents—jewels, paintings, antiques. It was believed that Tamara managed to hang on to some of those presents, secreting them away or perhaps getting them out of the country. Tamara's husband was Ivan Slovinsky, a famous composer who fled to France during the revolution."
"Oh, my God! Are you serious?" Julia asked in amazement. "I've studied Ivan Slovinsky. He wrote an incredible number of operas and ballets at the turn of the century. His music was powerful, awe-inspiring. He was truly gifted, and he was my..." She had to think for a moment to calculate the relationship. "He was my great-grandfather?"
"Yes."
"I can't believe it." She turned to Alex in excitement. "Maybe that's where I got my love of music. I've always wondered why I feel such passion for any kind of melody when no one else in my family cares even a little about it."
Alex smiled at her. "It makes sense now."
"What about my father?" she asked Charles, impatient to hear the rest. "Was he also in music or ballet?"
"No, your father, Sergei Markov, was a high-ranking party member and a loyal communist until he fell in love with Natalia. Then he became disenchanted with the government. He could see that Natalia's career could be so much greater if she went to America. Apparently he had information that he was willing to share with our government if he and Natalia were granted asylum here."
"So the Russians killed them before they could leave," Julia said slowly. "That's what happened, isn't it? Did anyone investigate?"
"The Russian government blamed the explosion on faulty wiring. It was considered a tragic accident. They had the last word."
"This is just mind-boggling. I can't wrap my brain around it all." She thought for a moment, trying to make sense of everything Charles had told her. "My mother was a ballerina. I thought about taking ballet once, but Mom—Sarah—wouldn't let me. She always had a reason why she couldn't sign me up."
"Sarah didn't want you to dance," Charles interjected. "She was afraid you might grow up to be like your mother, that someone would eventually make the connection between you."
"Which is probably why she also discouraged me from pursuing my passion for music," Julia finished.
Sarah certainly had a lot to answer for. Only it was too late for her to give any of those answers.
"You can't tell anyone about any of this," Charles said. "If the people who killed your parents find out you know the truth, it will be even more dangerous for you."
"They think I have this priceless object, is that right?"
"I suspect so."
"This is unbelievable." Her head felt heavy with the amount of information she'd received, and she pressed a hand to her temple, feeling the ache spread across her cheekbones and around her eyes. "I don't know what to think. How am I supposed to feel? I know who my parents are, but they're dead. I can't meet them. I can't talk to them." The finality of that made her feel terribly sad. "I almost wish I'd never seen that picture of myself. I could have gone on believing I was just Julia DeMarco and not the orphan girl at the gates."
"You're not the girl in the picture," Charles said abruptly.
Her gaze flew to his. Her stomach did a somersault. "What do you mean? Of course I am." She silently begged him not to spin her around in another direction.
"Of course she is," Alex echoed in surprise. "I saw her. I took her picture. I was there."
Charles looked from Julia to Alex, then back to Julia again. His silence drew her nerves into a tight, screaming knot.
"Just say it—whatever it is," she begged.
"All right. I've told you this much. I might as well tell you the rest. You aren't the girl in the photograph, Julia."
"Then who is?" she demanded.
Chapter Eighteen
"You have a sister," Charles said, his voice slow and deliberate. "A twin sister. She was the one standing at the gate that day. You were inside the building." Shocked silence met his words. Julia didn't know what to say. It was clear Alex couldn't find words, either. The surprises just kept coming, each one bigger than the last.
"That's impossible," she said, finally finding her voice. "Why wouldn't that have come out before, when the picture was published?"
"No one in the general public ever connected the girl at the gates with the twin girls of Natalia and Sergei Markov, who died in an explosion. In fact, it was printed in the Russian newspaper that everyone in the house was dead, including the servants. No one ever came forward when the picture was printed to state your true identity. So if anyone recognized you, they kept it to themselves."
She could barely comprehend his explanation. She was still thinking about the fact that she had a sister. "I would remember," she said, racking her brain for any hint of a memory, but her mind was blank. She didn't remember a sister or parents or Russia, or anything that happened before she was in the United States. Yet something teased at the back of her mind. Why couldn't she bring it forward, let it out?
"Where is she?" Alex asked. "Where is this sister? Why didn't Sarah keep her and Julia together? Did something happen to her?"
Julia caught her breath at his question, silently pleading that her sister wasn't dead, too.
"It was too dangerous to keep the girls together," Charles explained. "They were taken out of the country separately."
"Who took my sister?" She stumbled over the word sister, realizing it no longer applied just to Liz, but to another woman as well.
"Another agent. Before you ask, I didn't know his name or anything about him. I wasn't supposed to be involved in that aspect of the operation. Stan made it clear that my job was to make the cultural exchange look authentic. Divert suspicion and attention by creating media opportunities for the theater group. The Russians wanted positive press."
"Wait," Alex said, putting up a hand. "Stan? Did you say Stan made it clear? I thought he was just an editor."
Charles smiled at that. "Stan was never just an editor. He was a friend. A crazy, wild friend."
Julia didn't understand the gleam in Charles's eye. Nor had Stan Harding given her the impression of being crazy or wild. Alex appeared confused, too.
"Are you saying Stan was involved in the operation to get the Markovs out of Russia?"
"He was a ballet fanatic. He'd met Natalia a few times when she came to the States. She confided in him. He set up the defection."
"So he lied, too," Alex said bitterly. "Big surprise."
"Let's go back to my sister. I want to know where she went after she left Russia, and why we weren't reunited," Julia said.
"Sarah wanted to get you back together," Charles replied. "But she had to keep you under wraps once the photo came out. Your sister had already been placed in a temporary foster home on the other side of the country. When things died down, Sarah wanted to find your sister, but she couldn't ask anyone for help. She broke all the rules when she took you. She was in hiding from everyone, including the agency. No one
knew where she was. She had grown up in New York State and went to school in Chicago. Everyone was looking for her in those places. No one was looking for her here. I didn't even know she had you or where she was for over ten years. Then I saw her one day by accident down on the Wharf. I couldn't believe my eyes."
"So she kept me from my sister, the only blood relative I had left? And she deprived me of my grandparents? What gave her the right to do any of that? I should have known about my heritage. I should have known everything," Julia declared, feeling angry and betrayed and sad all at the same time.
"You were never supposed to know any of it. The people who killed your parents wanted the whole family dead. The only way to protect you was to keep you hidden away. If you knew who you were, Sarah was afraid you'd do what you're doing now: go looking for answers that could get you killed."
"That should have been my choice, especially when I became an adult. I can't believe I sat by her bedside talking to her about our life together, our hopes and dreams, and none of this ever came out."
"Don't judge her too harshly," Charles said. "She loved you very much."
"What kind of love is filled with lies?"
"Sarah gave up her life for you, Julia," Charles said. "She walked away from her parents, her home, her community, her identity just so she could raise you. That wasn't cowardly; that was brave."
His words touched her. How could they not? But Sarah's sacrifices didn't make up for the lies. "I don't think I can forgive her."
"Give yourself some time," Charles advised. "Remember, love isn't always simple."
"People like you and Sarah are the ones who make it complicated." She sat back in her chair, the noise from the roller coasters penetrating her brain. She'd been so caught up in Charles's story, she'd lost track of time. Only now did she realize that the shadows were longer and deeper. It was getting late. They'd been talking for a long time.
She glanced at Alex, wondering if he wanted to take the lead now, ask his father some pointed, personal questions. She was surprised by the speculative look in his eyes as he stared at her. "What are you thinking?" she asked.
"That your sister looks just like you."
"Obviously, if she's my twin." She didn't understand his point.
"If that photo of you in the Tribune got picked up nationally, or if Christine Delaney continues her quest to publicize you, your sister might see your picture in the paper and wonder why she has a twin she never met."
"And whoever is after me might go after her," Julia finished, suddenly realizing where his thoughts were headed. "We have to find her and fast." She turned back to Charles. "Do you think Mr. Brady knows where my sister is now? He knew where I was, right?"
Charles shook his head. "Brady didn't know where you were until Stan called him last week. As I said, Sarah disappeared off the face of the earth. Even when we reconnected, she made me promise to stay silent."
"What about my sister? Does she know who she really is?"
"The original foster family was paid handsomely not to ask questions. It's my understanding that that family broke up and your sister went into the system like any other American orphan."
"What's her name? Wait." Julia squeezed her eyes tight as an image popped into her head. She was playing with a doll. She was looking in the mirror, and she called the doll... On second thought, maybe she hadn't been looking in the mirror. Maybe she'd been looking at her sister. Yes, that was it. Her sister held the doll she wanted. Julia asked for it back, and she called her... "Elena," she whispered, her eyes flying open. "Her name was Elena."
"You remember her?" Alex asked.
"Just that. I think I've dreamed about her, but I always thought I was dreaming about me. That's weird, isn't it?"
"You'll probably remember more now," Alex told her. "You suffered a huge trauma, being ripped from your home, your parents, your country. It's no wonder you blocked it out."
She directed her attention back to Charles. "You said Brady doesn't know where Elena is. Do you? Or does Stan know?"
"It could be dangerous for you to find her."
"According to you, I'm already in danger just by virtue of being alive."
He tipped his head in acknowledgement. "True. All right. I know that your sister goes by the name Elaine Harrigan. At one point she was a ballet dancer with a Washington DC ballet company. Maybe that will help you find her."
"How do you know that?"
"Sarah found her about ten years ago. I don't know how or what she ever intended to do with the information. She only said she was worried because Elaine was in ballet and someone might connect her to her famous mother."
Her sister was a ballet dancer. Another surprise, and yet it seemed right. She studied Charles, wondering why he'd decided to come clean. "Why?" she asked. "Why tell me now?"
"Alex is a grown man. You're a grown woman. It's your turn to make your own decisions." Charles's gaze focused on Alex. "Will you tell your mother about me?"
"I have to," Alex replied. "She deserves to know the truth."
Charles pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and pushed it across the table. "This is where I'll be if you want to talk to me, or if your mother does."
"I thought you were supposed to disappear again."
"I was. Brady won't be happy that we met, but I couldn't desert you a second time, Alex. I understand that you may never forgive me for what I did. But I know in my heart that I did what I believed was right. And I still believe it. You might have grown up without a father, but you lived, and you have a good life now. I've read a lot about you, everything I could get my hands on. You've made me proud."
"You should have come to me sometime in the last twenty-something years," Alex said harshly. "You should have found a way to tell me you were alive."
"I didn't think I had the right. You'd moved on. If you or your mother want to talk now, that's where I'll be. I'll leave it up to you."
"Mom will probably come after you with a gun," Alex said, but he put the piece of paper in his pocket.
"How is she?" Charles asked.
"She's divorced again, her third. She seems to have developed a fondness for her memories of you. She's been publicizing your photos all over town. In fact, your work is part of an exhibit at the Legion of Honor. But you probably already know that. You've been so close to us all these years."
"I started out across the country, but I eventually made my way back to San Francisco. In the beginning I wanted to watch over you."
"You watched me?" Alex asked, a rough edge to his voice.
"A few times. Enough to know you were all right."
"Yeah, I was fine. Just fine." Alex rose. "I think we're done here. Julia?"
"Just one last question," she said. "Did Sarah ever consider telling me the truth?"
"No." Charles looked her straight in the eye. "Sarah was afraid you would hate her for what she'd done. She told me she'd do everything she could to make sure you were happy and that you never lacked for anything, especially a family. She would make certain you were surrounded by love."
"I was," Julia said quietly. And now she had to wonder if Sarah had ever loved Gino, or if he'd just provided the family she so desperately needed to make the illusion complete.
* * *
An hour later Alex pulled off at the exit just before the Bay Bridge and turned into a hotel parking lot. He didn't stop driving until they had gone to the far side of the building, completely hidden from the freeway.
"What are you doing?" Julia took a quick look over her shoulder. "Is someone following us again?"
"No, but we can't go back to our apartments. They know where we live. I don't want someone trying to grab you or your purse. In fact, I don't want them getting anywhere near you.
His protectiveness touched her. She liked that he cared enough to worry about her. "What do you suggest we do?"
"Get a hotel room, call the airport, book a flight for DC first thing in the morning."
She turned sideways
in her seat, amazed that she could still feel surprised after everything she'd learned. "You really think we should hop on a plane to Washington DC, with nothing more than a name and a ballet company?"
"It's a good start. We'll have better luck tracking your sister there than here."
"If she's still in DC. Your father said the information was at least ten years old."
"But she was there, and she probably had friends in the ballet company. Someone might know where she is now," he pointed out.
"It's so spontaneous. I'm not the kind of person who jumps on planes every other day. It will be expensive, won't it, this close to departure?"
"I have lots of Frequent Flyer miles. It won't cost us a dime. I think of air travel like car travel. Going to DC is like going to St. Helena, except the trip is a few hours longer."
"So speaks the world traveler," she said with a smile.
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"It's a yes. I want to find my sister. I still can't believe I have a sister." Her smile dimmed. "Oh, no," she muttered.
"What now?" he asked warily.
"Liz. She won't like this at all. How will I tell her I have a twin sister who shares my blood, especially now that I know she doesn't? She won't understand. She was worried that she would lose me to my biological father. How on earth am I going to make her understand it doesn't change things?"
"It does change things. How could it not?"
"I love Liz. She'll always be my sister."
"But she won't be your only sister. That will take some adjustment, especially since Elaine or Elena looks just like you."
"Liz will definitely feel like the odd girl out," she agreed.
"Don't tell her yet. It will be easier to present the whole picture when it makes sense. If you give her this much, it will only be confusing and disturbing."
"Which describes my feelings exactly."
He ran his finger down the side of her face. "It's been a rough day for you. And here I thought it would be all about me and seeing my dad again, listening to his lies."
"Yeah, well, I didn't want you to have all the fun," she said lightly, trying to stay on the surface of her emotions. She was afraid if she didn't, she would have a complete meltdown, and it wasn't the time for that. "How was it, seeing your dad again?"
Summer Reads Box Set: Volume 1 Page 93
