"That's enough about the toaster. I'm far more interested to hear why you two are dressed up. Do you have a big day planned?"
"We do, sort of," Ginny said. "We're off to the zoo."
"Well, I hope I'm not keeping you."
Ginny shook her head.
"You're not. We want to get there by noon, but we're in no big hurry."
"Good. I was hoping we could chat for a few minutes."
Ginny looked at Katie and then glanced at their host.
"Did we do something wrong?" Ginny asked.
Virginia laughed.
"Good heavens, no. I just wanted to learn more about my new tenants."
"OK."
"Have you girls had any breakfast?"
"We had some toast," Ginny said. "Well, I did, anyway."
Virginia looked at Katie and then Ginny.
"Would either of you like a cinnamon roll? I made some fresh this morning."
Both girls smiled and nodded.
"I thought you might. Give me a moment and I'll get you some."
Five minutes later, Virginia brought out more coffee and a plate of glazed rolls. She felt guilty about keeping her tenants, but not too guilty. There was something about this delightful pair that didn't add up, and she wanted to find out what it was.
"So tell me about growing up in California. Do you come from a big family?"
"We're the oldest of six kids," Ginny said.
"Six? Oh, my. I consider three a handful. Your parents must be very special people."
Both girls smiled.
"We like them," Ginny said.
"What does your father do? Katie?"
Virginia suspected that she might get further with the quiet one. She knew from more than twenty-five years as a reporter and editor that the best answers often came from those least willing to talk.
"He's a geologist and a professor, ma'am."
"A professor? How interesting. Where does he teach?"
Katie gave her sister a sidelong glance.
"UCLA," Ginny said. "He's an adjunct professor. He teaches only when he feels like it."
"I see. He must be very good to teach only when he feels like it."
"He is," Ginny said. "He's very good."
"How about your mother, Katie?"
"She's very good too," Katie said.
Virginia laughed to herself. She had met two masters of evasion.
"What I meant to ask is: 'Does your mother have a job outside the home or have any hobbies or special interests?'"
"She volunteers at the library," Katie said.
"What a wonderful way to contribute to the community. When I was in college, two of my housemates worked at the university library. They both found the work very rewarding."
"She likes it," Katie said.
"Well, your parents sound like wonderful people."
Deciding it was time to bring Ginny back into the discussion, Virginia glanced slightly to her left. She found a young woman who had moved beyond answering questions for her sister and was now examining several black-and-white photographs on the wall of the dining area.
"Do you like what you see?" Virginia asked.
"I do," Ginny said. "Who took these pictures?"
"I did."
"Wow. They're really good. I wish I could do something like this."
"Are you a photographer?" Virginia asked.
"I try to be. I took photos for my high school newspaper, but I never took any like these. These are amazing. I especially like the one of the boy at the cemetery. It's beautiful."
"I took that at a funeral here in 1953. The boy's father was one of the last American soldiers killed in Korea. He was only twenty-five years old, his wife twenty-four."
"It must have been hard to take the picture."
"It was more than hard, Ginny. It was almost impossible. After I took that photograph, I left the cemetery and wept in my car for more than an hour. I almost quit my job that day. That funeral was the most difficult assignment I've had as a journalist."
Virginia watched the girls closely as they reacted to the story. Ginny returned to the photo and studied it like an artifact. She placed her fingers on the frame and ran them down the sides, as if to gain additional meaning from the poignant image of a boy saluting his father's casket. Katie placed her fingers on her cheeks – to brush away the tears. She was a blubbering mess.
"You said you took photos for your school paper, Ginny?"
"I did. They were mostly pictures of sports and other activities."
"Did you bring your camera with you to Seattle?"
Ginny turned away from the photo and faced Virginia.
"No. I left it at home."
"Would you like to use one of mine? I have an old Leica M3 that I rarely use. I'd be happy to lend it to you until you find something more to your liking."
Ginny looked at Virginia's puzzled eyes.
"Is that a 35-millimeter camera?" she asked.
"Indeed, it is. It's one of the best on the market."
Ginny smiled.
"I'd love to borrow it. Thank you."
"Good. I have just two requests."
"OK," Ginny said in a tentative voice. "That seems fair."
"The first request is simple enough," Virginia said. "I want you to take pictures today. I want to see what you can do at the zoo. Can you do that?"
Ginny nodded.
"I can do that."
"Don't worry about the film. I'll provide you with all that you need."
"Thanks," Ginny said. "What's the second request?"
"Oh, that's a simple one too."
"What's that?"
Virginia smiled.
"I want you to treat my camera better than a toaster."
CHAPTER 29: GINNY
Ginny glanced at her sister as they proceeded southward along the Ave and noticed that she was having difficulty walking and reading a bus schedule at the same time.
"How much farther to the bus stop?" Ginny asked.
"I don't know," Katie said. "Maybe five more blocks. The route map is not very clear."
"Let me see it."
Ginny grabbed the tri-folded schedule from Katie. When she looked at the map on the back, she saw that her sister had a point. The map was as clear as Mount Rainier on a foggy day.
"See? I'm right," Katie said.
"OK. You're right. Do you want a prize or something?"
"Yes," Katie said. She smiled. "I want your hairy little man."
"Never," Ginny said.
Ginny laughed as she thought of the troll doll, which sat atop her dresser. She couldn't believe she had held onto the thing, much less given it a prominent place in her bedroom. Then she thought of it in a different way and grew wistful. The doll was a reminder of the life she had once had – a life she missed and still wanted back.
She pondered the night at the fair for a moment and then quickly purged it from her mind. She knew the surest way to go bonkers was to dwell on things she could not change. She had more important things to think about – like a sister and friends and a country fair less than four months away. The present and future mattered now, not the past.
Ginny thought about the present day as a reminder of the time – a camera strapped around her neck – bounced wildly from side to side. Grabbing the Leica M3 with both hands, she gave the device a thorough inspection and once again thought about the woman who had lent it to her.
She could not believe anyone would loan a relative stranger a camera worth several hundred dollars. Then again, Virginia Jorgenson was not like anyone she had ever met. There was something about her, besides the obvious, that was different – and that difference bothered her.
"Do you think she's on to us?" Ginny asked.
Katie paused before answering.
"No," she said. "I don't think so."
Ginny glanced at her twin.
"You don't sound all that certain."
"I'm not. I'm not a hundred-percent sure anyway."
"I'm not sure because of all those questions. She asked a lot of questions – and she asked me questions that could have been directed at you. I don't know why she singled me out."
Ginny laughed.
"I can answer that. She knew you would crack under the hot lights."
Katie gave Ginny a not-so-friendly stare.
"I'm serious though," Ginny continued. "Do you think she knows who we are?"
"How could she? We didn't exist when Mom knew her. We didn't exist when Dad knew her. Think of all she'd have to set aside to believe we're the daughters of her college friends. She's a journalist, Gin. Journalists are skeptics. Even if she thought we had familiar names and faces, she would never jump to conclusions without hard proof."
"I know. It just seems she's taken an unusual amount of interest in us."
"She has," Katie said. "That doesn't necessarily mean she's on to us. It may just mean she's a very friendly woman who likes to help people."
"You're probably right."
Katie stopped and gently grabbed Ginny by the arm as they finally arrived at the bus stop on North Fiftieth Street. She looked concerned.
"I probably am," Katie said. "She has no reason to think we're more than two girls who look a lot like Mom. But even if we have her fooled, do you think we should continue as we have?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that maybe we should tell her the truth," Katie said. "What's the harm in that? Then we wouldn't have to lie anymore."
Ginny sniffed and shook her head.
"You're right," Ginny said. "If we told her the truth, then we wouldn't have to lie anymore. We'd just have to tell our friendly handlers in the white coats when we need a potty break. We're time travelers, Katie. We can't just tell people we're from the future and expect them to act rationally. I think we should wait."
Katie looked at Ginny and frowned. It was clear that even she didn't have an answer to a problem that might become more complicated in the days and weeks to come.
Ginny followed her sister to a covered bench and sat beside her. When she saw a bus approach from the east a few minutes later, she tapped Katie on the shoulder.
"There's our ride," Ginny said. "Do you have your money?"
Ginny awaited an answer but didn't get one. A few seconds later, she turned to her right and saw her sister, white-faced, stare into the distance.
"Katie? Are you all right?"
Katie slowly turned to face her twin.
"I left my purse at the house."
"It's no big deal," Ginny said. "I have plenty of money. You can pay me back."
Katie looked at her sister like a lost sheep.
"You don't understand, Gin. I left my purse at the house."
"So?"
"My purse has things in it, like my driver's license – my future driver's license – and Dad's business card and several family pictures, including a wedding photo of Mom and Dad."
Ginny closed her eyes and brought a hand to her forehead.
"I guess we don't need to worry about telling Mrs. Jorgenson the truth," Katie said. "She has it on her kitchen floor."
Katie lifted her head and looked away.
"The jig is up."
CHAPTER 30: KATIE
Friday, May 22, 1964
Katie clutched her purse tightly as she sat at the modest table in the modest house in the northwest corner of the university district. Though she had purged the bag of anachronistic items, she did not yet feel comfortable leaving it anywhere except on her lap. The purse was a visible reminder of her double life, a life that now seemed as complicated as ever.
"Are you all right?" Mike Hayes asked. "You seem a little lost."
Katie smiled sadly.
"I'm OK. I'm just drifting again."
Katie had drifted more than a few times since Wednesday night, when Cindy Jorgenson had walked across the street, returned the purse, and left without saying a word. Katie hated not knowing things, particularly things that affected her directly, and not knowing whether Virginia Jorgenson had gone through her purse was about as bad as it got.
Mike grabbed her hand under the round table and smiled.
"Then I guess I'll just have to keep you tethered," he said.
Katie warmed at the sight of his smile. She knew that warming to anything in 1964 was not a good idea, but she also knew she couldn't remain detached from everything for four months. She liked this guy and wanted to make the most of whatever time they had together.
She began to respond to his comment when a woman slowly walked in from the kitchen with a pie in her hands. The woman, who wore the sweetest of smiles, was Mike's mother.
Katie liked Mary Hayes from moment they had met. She was pleasant, kind, and inquisitive but not nosy. She was a woman who understood potentially awkward encounters and knew how to make a guest welcome and comfortable.
There was something about her, however, that didn't add up. Mary was forty-three or forty-four, according to a twenty-fifth reunion photo of the Class of 1938 that hung on the living-room wall, but she seemed much older. Despite lustrous brown hair that was probably part of a wig and smooth skin that covered a pretty face, she looked old. She appeared frail, weak, and beaten, like someone who'd had an unusually hard life.
"Here we go," Mary said as she brought the pie into the room.
"Need some help with that, Mom?" Mike asked.
"No. I have it, honey. You just sit and visit with your friend."
Mary placed the pie in the middle of the table, grabbed a knife, and cut the pie into eight slices. Her hand trembled slightly each time she pushed the blade through the crust.
"I hope you like apple pie," Mary said.
"I like every pie," Katie said.
"I was counting on that. Apples were all I had on hand today."
"You should have asked me to get what you needed at the store," Mike said.
"I was planning to, but I forgot," Mary said. She looked at Katie. "I usually give Michael a list on Thursday or Friday. It's very convenient to have a son who works at a grocery store."
Mary grabbed a stainless steel pie server, lifted a piece of pie from the dish, and placed it on a small plate in front of Katie. When she finished doing the same for Mike, she sat down, sighed, and steadied herself by putting her hands on the edge of the table. She looked at Katie and then at Mike and smiled.
"Don't wait for me," Mary said. "Please dig in."
Katie and Mike did as instructed.
Mary added a lump of sugar to her coffee and looked at Katie.
"Michael tells me that you and your sister are twins. That must be fun."
"It is for the most part," Katie said. "Ginny often gets on my nerves, but she is fun to be around. She's my best friend. We do just about everything together."
"Did Michael tell you that he was a twin too?"
Katie put her fork on her plate. She glanced at Mike and then Mary.
"No. No, he didn't."
Mike lowered his eyes and turned away.
"I had two boys on May 2, 1945," Mary said. "Michael was the second. His brother Mitch developed leukemia as a toddler and died shortly after his fifth birthday."
"I'm so sorry," Katie said. "That must have been awful."
"It was hard, particularly when my husband was at sea. Jack was in the Navy at the time. I had few friends I could count on, but I managed," she said. She smiled at her son. "We all did."
Katie started to ask about Mr. Hayes but stopped herself when she remembered the scene at the grocery store. She figured if Mike hadn't wanted to talk about him then, he probably didn't want to hear about him now. She reminded herself to remain silent on the matter.
"I understand you have a daughter, Mrs. Hayes."
"I do. Patsy is twenty-two now. She's married and lives in Tacoma with her husband and their six-month-old daughter."
"Do you see her often?"
"Not as often as I'd like. They come up here al
most every weekend. I go down there when I can, usually when Michael gets a few days off," Mary said. "I don't drive anymore."
"I see."
Katie grabbed Mike's hand under the table and squeezed it. She wanted to bring him back into the conversation, but she could see from his frown that he wanted no part of it.
"Tell me about your family, Katie. I understand it's a large one."
Katie nodded.
"I have three brothers and two sisters."
"Are all of the kids in school?" Mary asked.
"They are, except for Ginny and me. We graduated from high school last year."
"How about your parents? What do they do?"
Katie smiled as she tried to remember how many times she had discussed her background in 1964. She considered most of the discussions exercises in evasion, but not this one. She did not mind talking about her past with this woman. Mike's mom was a kindred spirit.
"My father, Joel, is a geologist and a professor in Los Angeles. My mother, Grace, raises my younger siblings and volunteers at the local library when she can."
"They sound like good family people," Mary said. "You must miss them."
More than you can imagine.
"I do."
"Have you managed to find permanent housing? Michael tells me that you and your sister have been living in a motel."
"We're not anymore," Katie said. "We recently moved into a duplex by Ravenna Park. It's really nice. We'll probably stay there at least through the summer."
Katie watched Mary smile and nod. She was pleased to see Mike's mom respond positively to the news that she wouldn't be leaving in a week. Katie wasn't pleased to see Mary take a deep breath and again support herself by grabbing the edge of the table. Something wasn't right.
"I'm happy to hear that. I know Michael thinks a lot of you," Mary said. "Are you still planning to attend the university in the fall?"
"I am. Ginny and I are both saving money for tuition right now. If we can't afford to enroll in the fall, we will definitely enroll in the winter. We came up here to get a college education, and we don't plan to leave until we get one."
Mary beamed.
"I admire that so. As a girl, I dreamed of going to college. As a mother, I dreamed that my children would go to college. I still hope Michael can go someday. I know he'd like to."
The Mirror (Northwest Passage Book 5) Page 14
