The Gift of the Twin Houses Page 18

  I walked down the hall to Conrad and Tom’s former bedrooms. They held simple furnishings, nicely mingling the old and the new. I imagined the twin aunties as little girls, Conrad’s sister, his brother, father, and uncle. So many memories were held in these rooms. I wanted to know them all. I wanted them to come to me and make me part of their history, their world, and I heard them say yes, they would come and visit.

  Suddenly I saw Leonard and his son, Ethan, in this house. Then the image of Ethan’s sons, Stuart “the cowboy,” and his brother, Henry, showed up. I caught a glimpse of Henry as he left this house and moved to mine when he married Amy’s daughter Annie. Then I saw Stuart marrying Annie’s twin sister, Claudia, the birth of their baby girl, and the sadness he felt when they both died. Then I saw another woman alongside an older Stuart with a baby boy. The images were clear enough, yet confusing, until I understood their meaning. They offered glimpses of the people who were related to one another while pointing out those who weren’t. But why or how did I know that?

  “Lots of generations have passed through these rooms,” Conrad said as he put his arms around me.

  “I just realized that Leonard knew the truth. Amy was not his. Louise must’ve conceived Amy with her husband, Anthony.”

  “Doesn’t matter much now, does it?”

  “I think it does. And I think I’m supposed to do something with this information. Don’t know what though.”

  “When the time comes, you’ll know.”

  “I guess.”

  “C’mon,” Conrad said as he took my hand.

  “Wait, do you have an attic?”

  “Twin houses all the way. Upstairs. C’mon.”

  As we climbed the stairs, he turned to me. “Nothing like that attic of yours. This one holds old furniture, and that’s about it.”

  “Your grandmother didn’t care for it like she did for mine?”

  “Maybe it lacked the same significance. I don’t know why. This attic is where Grandpa Richard used to keep the things he didn’t care to put in the outer shed. Things he might need during the winters without having to go out in the snow.”

  We reached the attic, and he opened the door for me. I stepped in, and in an instant I understood the role this room had played in their lives. It reflected Leonard’s personality through and through. A room created to ensure that both households would be safe and well cared for. A rational room, a room designed for practical uses, leaving all the emotions to be dealt with by the attic of its twin.

  I made my way into the attic and around all the old, forgotten, dusty furniture, admiring each piece, imagining it in the house instead of abandoned in this room.

  “I haven’t been in here for years,” Conrad said.

  “There are some nice pieces. Why store them here?”

  “We never wanted to get rid of the old stuff as Tom and I got newer or more useful things.”

  “Will you bring some with you to our home?”

  “Well, I wasn’t planning on it. Tom and Alyana may want to use them or better yet, they might want to sell them and make a bit of money.”

  “Would you mind if we take a look at what they don’t want before they sell it? Maybe we’ll want to keep it.”

  “Sure.”

  I moseyed back to him and out of the attic. He closed the door behind us, and as we made our way down the stairs, I sighed.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Did you see the old wooden double crib under the table in the right corner?”

  “No, I don’t recall a double crib.”

  “I wonder who the crib belonged to.”

  “I can take a look at it and hazard a guess as to when it could’ve been made.”

  “Will you?”

  “Yep.”

  We walked down the hall past the small bedrooms, but before we reached the stairs to the lower floor, I stopped to look at Angela’s room once more.

  Conrad put his arm around my shoulders and we stood in silence observing his old room.

  “I moved into this room after my grandma passed away. It was comforting.” “Do you want to move this furniture to our house?” I asked.

  He remained silent for a while. Then he took a deep breath, exhaled, and tightened his hold around my waist. “I hadn’t thought about it, but now that you mention it, it feels right.”

  “I think Angela and Richard would want us to.”

  “Well, there’s one way to find out. Do you want to try the bed?”

  With a wink, the perfect little gesture I had come to love so much, we entered the bedroom.

  Angela sighed with delight as she quietly left the room and closed the door.

  “Why close the door?” he asked. “We’re alone.”

  “I didn’t close it. It closed on its own.”

  “Did it?”

  Chapter 22

  Sarah

  Perfection filled our second night together. We made love several times, cuddled, talked, kissed time and time again, and thoroughly enjoyed each other. Hard to believe how easy it had been for me to give myself to Conrad, how wonderful it felt to share this intimacy with him, and how uninhibited I felt. Considering that I’d never allowed a man to go further than a good-night kiss, it amazed me how much I craved Conrad’s hands all over my body, and how unafraid I felt that he would find any flaws.

  “I love your cinnamon skin,” he told me. “It’s as smooth as fine velvet.” Then with each kiss and caress, I melted away. These emotions, the sense of comfort and lack of timidity, were all due to him. He made me feel special. Through his eyes I looked beautiful and enchanting, and with that, he’d conquered all my inhibitions. His gaze caressed my face, my breasts, my buttocks, and I saw delight in his face. No pretense in his actions or his words, he was genuine and without a doubt sincere in his admiration. He saw me as a sensuous, desirable woman, and consequently, so did I.

  In turn, I saw him strong, with enormous sex appeal, and possessing an uncanny ability to combine tenderness with unbridled passion. I think that the adoration he saw in my eyes also made him feel dazzling and powerful. From our point of view, we were a stunning couple.

  The sun peeked through the curtains as we woke up, and in the quiet of the early morning, he held me in his arms, and we glimpsed into my past.

  “With a French nana and a Spanish mom, I’m sure you’re used to traveling,” Conrad said. “You’ll be OK with a sedentary type like me? You know I didn’t inherit the adventuresome streak from my dad. I’m more like my mother and my grandfather.”

  “Nothing would please me more than to grow old with you in this valley, surrounded by our family, and cared for by our twin houses. I’m not much of a traveler. I take more after my dad. He found his calling as a corporate attorney and was content to stay put and look after it, just as I did with my teaching.”

  “And your mom and nana?”

  “My mom had no use for travel, as it disturbed our routine. She enjoyed her work and caring for all of us. She lived vicariously through her books, so she didn’t like to wander about. Nana had had enough travel in her youth and delighted to be in a country that didn’t push her to become someone she didn’t wish to be. She preferred staying put. She loved her life in Boston, and after retirement, she involved herself in many community improvement projects. We all liked Boston and didn’t seek to travel. We did go to Mexico often though.”

  “Where in Mexico?”

  “Mostly Monterrey, a city in the northern part of Mexico where my father, Ernesto, was born. We visited with his family. But we also traveled to other cities and towns in Mexico.”

  “Ah, you inherited your cinnamon skin from him.”

  “Also from Nana and her family, who were olive skinned. I inherited my complexion mostly from my mom. My dad’s term of endearment for my mom was Canela, which is cinnamon in Spanish.”

  “Canela,” he said in perfect Spanish. “You’re a veritable United Nations. You spoke Spanish or French at home?”

  “Mo
stly English, Spanish for comfort, and French with Nana.”

  “Your parents raised you well, except for making you hide your abilities.” “They meant well, but once convinced that it was dangerous, they wouldn’t budge. They held firmly to their convictions, same with Nana. It’s part of my genetic makeup.”

  “I haven’t seen that in you.”

  “Until recently, I behaved much like them. Their influence took firm hold on me. Nana tried to chip away at the cocoon they built around me, but she wouldn’t stray from their teachings. It’s interesting how I can actually recognize a genetic trait and then suddenly choose not to follow it. I certainly like it better now that I am open to new experiences.”

  “Good, ’cause I like that in you.”

  He bathed me in kisses, and before we knew it, we were making love. Oh, what a delight to indulge our senses early in the morning when our bodies were warm and cozy under the comforter. This time our lovemaking became a waltz, our bodies softly joining in perfect rhythm, delicious waves of tenderness and excitement flowing through us in perfect synchronicity.

  It was slow and soothing, like a soft breeze in the freshness of the morning. Our climax was unhurried, a deep explosion of pleasure, roving little by little, generating immense desire every step of the way.

  We stayed in a warm embrace for a while before saying anything, and I realized how much pleasure all these new experiences with my husband-to-be meant to me. Then all of a sudden, a gush of tears erupted. Years ago I’d closed the door on the notion of ever having a husband or a family of my own, and I’d hidden the key that could open those dreams deep inside me. Unbeknownst to him, Conrad had just found it. The door had been opened, and years of repressed sorrow were now uncontrollably gushing out. So I let them flow. Time to cleanse the past and allow my new life to emerge. This was the moment to remove all skeletons from my closet.

  “I think I finally understand how broken I’ve been.”

  “You don’t have to explain.”

  “I do.”

  “Please, don’t go on just because you think I want to know why you’ve cried so. The past is just that, gone. What matters now is that I love you.” “But I’d like to share it with you.” I went on. “It’s not every day that one finds oneself.”

  “Then, by all means.”

  “The pain and then the fear of being different, of being evil, or of being a witch, as they had called me, controlled me all my life.”

  “Since six.”

  I smiled. “Yes, just six. It’s understandable that without hesitation I accepted my family’s desire to eliminate that horrid part of me.”

  “Not horrid.”

  “Not for you or Angela, but my family thought it terrifying at that time. It scared the daylights out of all of us. Supernatural stuff is not only foreign for most people, but also scary. Hard to explain, how it happens or why it happens. Particularly difficult for people like my parents, who needed concrete evidence to be able to manage its enigma. Even my nana, as intuitive as she was, couldn’t offer any help on that score.”

  “I’m sure they researched it.”

  “I would think so. Never asked. By the time I could, I didn’t even think of it. I’d gotten used to the person we had crafted.”

  “Crafted?”

  “That’s how I see it now. Influenced by the push for self-reliance, logic, rational thought, and independence, coupled with the strong opinions of my parents and grandmother, I lost my true self. Someone crafted in their mold emerged. So, I never really paid attention to me or what I wanted or needed, let alone who I was. I just accepted their representation of me and shut down the Sarah I could’ve been, the Sarah that I am today.”

  “I’m glad to have you.”

  “You have no idea how glad I am to have you.” And of course we kissed for a long time before I could go on.

  “As I think back, something pushed me to go west to college and to remain in California after I graduated. I never went back home after I finished college. I settled on my own, away from my family.”

  “Opposite coast. As far as possible from them.”

  “Yes, interesting isn’t it? Nothing to do with not loving them, I simply followed their teachings of independence. They themselves saw my move away from them as a natural result of my upbringing, and in turn, I felt quite comfortable on my own. It seemed to me that I’d achieve the path they had hoped for me, and they were proud of my accomplishments.”

  “This permanent move happened before or after you didn’t get married?” “After. The engagement happened as I finished college. We met there.” “What’s his name?”

  “Patrick.”

  “And?”

  “Marriage seemed like good idea at the time; finish college, start a family, be normal. But in the end, I couldn’t get close to him. I liked him enough. A nice young man, but I sensed that if I opened up to him, the images would reappear. So, I shut myself up and thought I could go through the marriage like that, encased in my own fortress. After all, my entire life had been just like that, so a marriage under those circumstances could work. But he didn’t agree. I do wish he’d said so before not showing up to the wedding.”

  “He just didn’t show up?”

  “I’m sure he wanted to hurt me, and he succeeded. Afterward, I never wanted to feel that pain again, so I fell into a routine of restraint and detachment and became quite adept at being aloof. The Sarah who controlled her life didn’t allow intimacy and therefore stayed safe. I loved being a teacher, so I threw myself into my work. My students were so fragile they—”

  “Fragile? Why?”

  “My field was special education. Most of my students had one or more disabilities. They needed so much attention that they absorbed all of my awareness, and I plain forgot all about me. I lost myself in the persona my parents crafted. Not till I came here, and entered our home, did I start shedding the shield in hope of finding my true self.”

  “Maybe your true self is in somewhere in the mix of the two. What attracts me is the blend of the self-reliant and the spiritual Sarahs.”

  “Maybe that’s it. That’s who I am, a bit of both. Time will tell.”

  We kissed, and for a while, as the sun entered the room. We held between us the lessons of the past that now brought hope for our future.

  When we finally got out of bed, a new experience awaited. We showered together. Not only a sensual experience, but lots of fun. We drew immense pleasure from the familiarity of lathering each other, washing one another’s hair, and cleansing our bodies. Erotic and exhilarating, though at times it tickled, and we burst out laughing. The joy of running my soapy hands along his entire body was thrilling. The hair on his chest, arms, and legs tickled my palms and sent little shivers through me. His manhood responded to my touch even though we’d just made love. How exciting to see him so ready to pleasure me again.

  His foamy hands felt soft and rough at the same time. Conrad’s delight and pleasure were so apparent that any insecurity I might’ve felt of letting him explore my body washed away. When his hand slightly opened my legs and glided in between, my body quaked. He trembled, instinctively reacting to my response. We took our time, thoroughly enjoying the pleasure of this most intimate and private exchange.

  Chapter 23

  Generations

  After we dressed we went back to our house, and together we fixed a fun improvised brunch. With the leftover bread, we made eggs in a blanket, and we thought the children would get a kick if we also made pigs in a blanket by wrapping cocktail wieners in bacon and baking them till crisp. We also whipped up hash brown potatoes mixed with a bit of onion and garlic, and for dessert we added a nice fruit salad topped with whipped cream or vanilla yogurt.

  “I like this feast,” Elan announced, and they all joined in, cheering the culinary prowess of the bride and groom-to-be.

  “Sarah,” Tom announced, “welcome to the family,” and everyone raised their glass of orange juice as they cheered. “We call my dad Pap
a, so Alyana and I thought, if it’s OK with you, we’d like to call you Mama. You know our history with our moms. It’s fitting for you to be our mother now that you’ll marry Papa.”

  It happened again, the inability to speak because my tears took over. I smiled, and Conrad reached for my hand and said, “I’ve learned that this reaction means yes.

  We all laughed together.

  Little Elan stood next to me, put his arm around my shoulder, and wiped the tears from my cheek. “Why are you crying? Don’t cry.”

  “I’m crying with happiness Elan; they’re tears of joy.”

  “We’re celebrating that Sarah and Papa are going to be married, she’s going to be our mama,” Alyana explained.

  “Good. We’ll make ornaments at Christmas and eat Mama’s apple cake. Yum.” He gave me a big hug, kissed the tears on my cheeks, and then my eyelids. “There,” he said as he climbed on my lap. “Mommy says that kissing the tears on your eyes makes you feel better. Are you better, Mama?”

  “I am, darling, thank you.”

  Of course Nina didn’t want to be deprived, so she wiggled out of her chair and climbed on my lap as well, kissing my cheeks and eyelids. “There, Mama,” she said when done. “Better.”

  Dotingly, I hugged my grandbabies.

  It turned out to be another perfect day. We took walks out in the snow, made snowmen, played games, talked, laughed, and enjoyed a great family day. After we put the little ones down for a nap, it came time for Alyana to rest a bit, and in the calm of the early afternoon, we planned our wedding.

  We agreed on New Year’s Eve. Conrad said that the world would be celebrating our wedding vows right along with us. Tom and Alyana thought it a fun idea, and as for me, it reminded me of my parents’ engagement stories, so it turned out to be the perfect day for our wedding.

  Conrad reached for my hand and announced, “Sarah and I want to give you an early Christmas present.”