"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 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 Twenty
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 the 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 divo
rced 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."
"I was in a famous picture?" Elena asked, her eyes wide and surprised once again.
"It was at an orphanage," Julia explained. "I guess we were put there until we could be smuggled out of the country."
"An orphanage?" Elena echoed.
"Yes. Your hands were on the gates, and—"
"Wait." Elena suddenly straightened. "The day was cold and gray. I wanted to go home. I didn't know where you were. I asked everyone I saw, even a boy who came over and took my picture," she finished. "I remember that now. That was you, Alex?"
He nodded. "You said something to me, but I didn't understand. I just knew there was a look in your eyes I wanted to capture."
"I was scared. I didn't know where I was or what I was doing there." She turned to Julia. "What was I doing there? And where were you?"
"I think I was there, too," Julia replied. "We were both there because our parents were important Russians, and they were planning to defect."
"Who were our parents?"
"Natalia and Sergei Markov."
"Natalia Markov, the ballerina? She was our mother? That can't be right. You must be mistaken."
"I'm not," Julia said. "You really didn't know? No one ever told you that you resembled her in any way?"
Lost in thought, Elena didn't say anything for a long moment. "I can't believe it. Natalia Markov. No one ever put the two of us together. But then, why would they?"
"You must have inherited her talent," Julia suggested. "I don't know if I did. I never had an opportunity to dance, but it never really spoke to me, either. I've always loved music more than dance."
"What happened to her? And to our father? How did they die?" Elena asked.
"In an explosion at the house. Our father worked for the Russian government. Apparently he offered to exchange information for freedom."
"Who took us out of the country if our parents were dead? And why didn't they leave us with our grandparents? Didn't we have grandparents?"
Julia hadn't thought that far back. "I don't know about our grandparents. I know our great-grandparents were tied to ballet and music, but they were probably dead before we were born. I was told that U.S. agents smuggled us out of the country somehow; the details have yet to be explained to me."
"They couldn't leave you there after your parents died," Alex interjected. "You probably would have been killed. In fact, I hate to speed up this reunion, but you both may be in danger. And we need to discuss how we're going to address that possibility."
"What do you mean?" Elena asked. "How could we be in danger?"
"My photo was published in the newspaper in San Francisco, with an article announcing that I was the orphan girl," Julia explained. "Then both my apartment and Alex's were ransacked. Someone tried to mug me, and we've been followed. It's all very disturbing. It appears that someone, whoever killed our parents, thinks I have something of value, some sort of family treasure that was going to support our parents and their new life here."
"What kind of a treasure?" Elena inquired with a bemused shake of her head. "This is such an amazing story."
"No one seems to know exactly what the treasure is. When I found out about you, I knew I had to warn you. Since they know I'm alive, it stands to reason they know or suspect you are, too."
"I certainly don't have a treasure," Elena said. "I don't have much of anything."
"I have two things from our past." Julia reached into her handbag and pulled out the necklace. "We each had one of these, remember? You were wearing yours in the picture."
"Yes, of course," Elena said. "I still have it."
"I also found this matryoshka doll." Julia set the doll on the coffee table. "Some of the pieces are missing. Do you have them?"
A light sparked in Elena's eyes. "I do. I'll get them." She went into her bedroom and returned a moment later with the necklace and the doll. "One of my foster parents tried to take these away from me once. I had to fight to get them back. They were all I had left of my family. I wasn't going to give them up. Sometimes I slept with them under my pillow just in case one of the other kids tried to steal them."
Julia frowned. It didn't sound as if Elena had had a very good life.
Elena opened the largest doll, which belonged to Julia, and said, "I want to put them together so they fit right."
As she did so, Julia flashed back to a similar scene. Her mother had taken the dolls apart on her bed. She'd said she wanted them each to have some dolls to take with them on their trip. So she'd divided them, every other one, then handed each of them a set of the dolls. She'd told them a story... What was that story?
"Our mother told us about these dolls," Julia said slowly. "Do you remember?"
Elena thought for a long moment. "She said the doll had been painted for her grandmother."
"She was a dancer, too," Julia said. "Tamara Slovinsky. You followed in their footsteps, Elena. You lived their legacy." Elena blinked quickly, and Julia realized too late the pain her words had created. "I'm sorry. I forgot."
"No, it's all right. I had an accident. I was careless. It's my fault that I can no longer dance."
"I bet you were great when you did."
"I was all right," she said modestly. "I didn't really care about being great. I just wanted to dance. I loved the way it felt to be on the stage, to be lost in a world of make-believe, where the girls were pretty and the boys were handsome and the music lifted you up as if you were flying."
Julia was touched by her sister's words. She felt the same passion for the music that made the dancer soar. They were truly two halves of the same whole.
"Do you mind if I take a look at the doll?" Alex interrupted. "There were some numbers on Julia's set. I wonder if there are any on yours. Do you have a piece of paper?"
"Sure," Elena said, retrieving a notepad from a nearby table.
Alex took the dolls apart again, one at a time, jotting down a number after each one, until they had a string.
"Ten numbers," he mused.
"Maybe it's a serial number for the doll," Elena suggested.
"The numbers are scratched lightly into the surface of the wood. I think someone put them there after the dolls were made."
"Maybe our mother did," Julia said slowly, remembering the sharp knife by her mother's side the day she'd had the dolls open on the bed. "What could they possibly mean?"
"I don't know," Alex replied. "But we should try to find out. I can't believe I'm going to say this," he added heavily. "I'll call my father. He might know something."
Julia knew what a huge step that was for him, and she nodded gratefully. "Thank you."
Alex started to put the dolls back together, then paused. He shook the smallest one. "This is interesting. I hear a rattle." He shook it again. Julia leaned in, hearing the same sma
ll noise. The doll was one that had belonged to Elena's set.
"Did you ever notice that before?" Julia asked her sister.
"I haven't taken that doll apart in probably fifteen years. And the smallest one never opened."
"It looks like it was glued shut. There's a fine line," Alex said. He looked at Elena. "Do you mind if I try to open it, see what's inside? It could be important."
Elena shrugged her shoulders. "It's fine with me. I can't imagine what would be in there. What do you need? A knife? A screwdriver?"
"Either would be great." He pressed on the middle of the doll with his fingers.
"Do you really think there's something in there?" Julia asked.
"We know someone has been looking for something and that it's small." He took a paring knife from Elena's hand and ran the tip around the middle of the doll where there should have been an opening. After a moment, he was able to pull the two pieces apart.
Julia held her breath as he produced a silver key.
"Look at this," Alex murmured.
"Why would a key be in there?" Elena asked.
"I wonder what it goes to." Julia took the key from Alex's hand and twirled it around in her fingers. There's a number on it—423."
"I have a safe-deposit box key that looks a lot like that," Alex commented.
She met his eyes. "You think this goes to a safe-deposit box?"
"Perhaps that ten-digit number on the dolls is for a bank account." Alex rose. "I'm going to call my father now. Do you mind if I use the bedroom?"
"Go ahead," Elena said with a wave of her hand. "I don't think I made my bed, though. Neatness isn't one of my strengths."
"Mine, either," Alex said with a smile. "I'll feel right at home."
As he left the room, Julia handed Elena the key. "What do you think? Any other ideas?"
"I feel like I'm two steps behind you and Alex. I don't know what we're looking for."
"We don't know, either. We're just winging it."
An awkward silence fell between them. "This is weird, huh?" Julia said, understating the obvious. "You and me, after all these years."
Summer Reads Box Set: Volume 1 Page 96
