The Gift of the Twin Houses Page 20

  “I did not think any of my daughters would marry.”

  “You were wrong,” Angela said with such dryness in her tone that it startled me.

  “I was wrong about many things,” Louise whispered back. “That is why I kept the records. To set it straight.”

  I looked at the contents of the tin can and found Amy’s birth certificate, as well as the birth certificates of her sisters and Ethan.

  I gasped when I read the birth record of Louise and Leonard. Twins, born in Boston in 1815 to Janet and her husband, Horace Whitman. “Oh my God! They were twins!” I blurted out.

  “Twins,” I heard Angela whisper to me. “Twins.”

  The paper was so fragile, I feared the documents would disintegrate in my hands if I held them too long.

  “Sarah,” Angela coaxed, “read them out loud. Their trueness will set the record straight.

  I did as she asked. “Cora Whitman, born in New York on June 22, 1833, to Louise Whitman, mother, and Leonard Whitman, father.” I paused to catch my breath. “Laura Whitman, born in Philadelphia on August 14, 1838, to Louise Whitman, mother, and Leonard Whitman, father.” When I held the next one, I couldn’t help myself and gasped as the birth certificate shook in my hand.

  “Read it out loud,” Angela persisted.

  “Amy Rochester, born in Boston on July 6, 1843, to Louise Rochester, mother, and Anthony Rochester, father.

  “Now, the final one.”

  “Ethan Whitman, born in Boston on January 4, 1842, to Adrianne Osborn Whitman, mother, and Leonard Whitman, father.”

  “Thank you,” Angela told me, before she turned her attention back to Louise, who resumed talking.

  “Leonard never knew how I recorded the births of our daughters, or of Amy.” Louise told Angela. “But when you read these records it becomes clear what we did.. .who we had become.”

  “I see.”

  “You see only what 1 chose to show, Angela. Appearances are what you make of them. No one knew my daughters were Leonard’s. No need for that, really.”

  “How did you manage to keep it a secret?”

  “For my first two pregnancies, 1 went away from friends and family. We lived in Boston, so 1 traveled to London and made up a husband, writing to all acquaintances of the happy nuptials and the impending birth. 1 returned from Europe just in time to deliver Cora in New York. When 1 arrived in Boston, 1 was a sad widow with a baby girl. For Laura, 1 first went to Paris and wrote of a wonderful second marriage and new pregnancy. This time 1 chose Philadelphia for Laura’s birth. Difficult to trace, 1 thought, but it did not matter, no one ever doubted me. Back in Boston, it all appeared to be quite natural and heartbreaking, now twice a widow with two little girls as the remnants of a couple of marriages that ended in tragic deaths. People felt sorry for me. ‘Poor, sad Louise, such bad luck.’ 1t helped hide the truth.”

  “Why not have your babies in Europe? Why come back to New York and Philadelphia?”

  “1 wanted their birth records to be on American soil, where they were conceived, and recorded in a manner all could understand.”

  “Why all the cover-up if you wished the records to speak of it all? Why not just tell Leonard the truth when he guessed that Amy wasn’t his?”

  “1 didn’t want to confess 1’d been intimate with Anthony. Leonard was a better lover thinking 1 had only been his.” Louise laughed, a dry, cold laugh that chilled my bones.

  “There is more to this truth you seek,” Louise went on. “Leonard got married, only for appearances, he told me, assuring me that he would be faithful to me. But shortly after their nuptials, Adrianne was with child. 1 could not bear the thought of him making love to another woman. 1 withheld myself from him.”

  Angela sighed, her hand folded on her lap as she watched Louise walk about the room. They were in my living room. Well, the living room in our house but in Louise’s time.

  “Leonard pushed me toward Anthony for appearances also. I did not resist. I was in so much pain by Leonard’s betrayal. He lied to me and made love to Adrianne. Can you believe it? Made love to her and got her pregnant. I wanted to hurt him in the same way. So I married Anthony, and we conceived Amy.”

  “It would’ve been better for him to know the truth.”

  “No. It would not. As long as he thought I had been only his, he would never suspect that I was the one who told Adrianne about us. I killed his wife when I told her that truth. He would never have forgiven me if he’d known. History proved me right.”

  “Why did you tell her?”

  “Ethan was a beautiful baby, and I was insanely jealous of her. I wanted to hurt her. Especially when I gave birth to Amy, another girl. I broke. I saw myself as a failure, so I lashed out.”

  “Why didn’t Adrianne tell Leonard what you had done?”

  “He was not there. He was attending to some business away from Boston. She killed herself within an hour of my departure from her home. I had already left Boston when it all happened. I did not wish to wait for the outcome of what I had done. After I told her, I left Anthony, took Amy, and moved to New York, away from everybody.”

  “Only Amy?”

  “Amy had purity. I thought it would do me good. But it did not. Leonard came after me and whisked us off to this godforsaken place.”

  “You don’t hate it as much as you say.”

  Louise smiled, walked toward Angela, sat nearby, and reached for her hands.

  “Our conversations have helped. I am more at ease.”

  “Leonard has forgiven you. It’s time for peace within you.”

  “He has, but I have not just yet. Too many deaths on my shoulders weigh me down. If you think on it, I am hideous. What I have done to those I should have loved is unforgivable.”

  “Louise, no need for melodrama.”

  “It is not melodrama!” She stood up facing Angela. “I will put the facts before you, and you will have no choice but to agree with me. The first one to go was Adrianne, the truth so unbearable that death turned out to be a better option. Followed by Mother, broken by the same truth, withering before my very eyes, with not an ounce of compassion ever coming from me. Anthony drank himself to death, unable to cope. The last one to go was Leonard, the man I loved, and love, so dearly. He chose a painful death in order to sever all connection with me.” “Is that so?”

  “You know it is. In one of my temper tantrums, I blurted out what I had done to Adrianne. My true nature revolted him. He could not bear the truth. Do you understand now?” She turned toward the windows and stared at the closed curtains.

  “Yes, I understand, but you’ve come a long way. You are now owning up to your actions, you’re facing your demons, and you’re making amends.”

  “One slow step at a time.”

  “Better than no steps at all.”

  “You are, as usual, correct.” Louise sighed and returned to Angela’s side. “Ethan has been wonderful to Leonard, telling him all about his life, and Amy’s, and the children and grandchildren. I like to hear the stories now that Leonard allows me to listen in.”

  “That’s good.”

  “It was so sad to hear about Amy’s daughter, Claudia, dying in childbirth with little Jennifer. I had difficulty seeing how deeply hurt Ethan looked when he told Leonard of their deaths, and of Stuart, his beloved son, running off to Canada to escape the pain.. .so distressing to feel the anguish in Ethan’s heart. I cried for him and for Stuart.”

  “Did you hear yourself just now?”

  Louise turned to face Angela. “Stop your implications, and just tell me what you mean. I hate it when you do that.”

  “You expressed sadness and cried. You cared for Ethan.”

  “Oh, that. Well, all your doing. This need of yours for the truth has me cleaning house.”

  I saw Louise smile at Angela before she continued. “I like this business of the truth. It is liberating. I particularly enjoy hearing Ethan talk to Leonard. No one talks to me, not even Amy. But I do not blame them.”

/>   “Ethan and Amy will be happy to hear that.”

  As quickly as they had appeared, they vanished. I waited to see if they would return, but what needed to be said had been said, and they didn’t come back.

  Still shaken, I carefully placed the documents back in the tin can, turned out the light, and went downstairs.

  The sun had risen and Conrad had left for work. He’d left me a note on the kitchen table.

  Hope you had good news from the attic. Went by, but you were so engrossed that I went to work. If you need to talk, just come by. Love, Conrad.

  I picked up the phone and called the store. “Good morning, darling,” I said when Conrad answered the phone. “Sorry I didn’t see you off this morning. Got up real early and didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Good morning to you too. All OK? Need to chat?”

  “I’m all right. A very unsettling story.”

  “I have a minute if you’d like to run something by me.”

  “I saw Angela in our living room talking with Louise Whitman.” “Nothing new there. You’ve seen other stories with Grandma.”

  “Except she was speaking with someone who was born in 1815.”

  “Ah. Got it.” And he paused for a while. “This one is more complicated than just a quick phone call. Anything in the conversation that shook you up?”

  “Yes. But I need to think on it. It can wait until tonight.”

  “OK, see you then.”

  My hands trembled as I replaced the receiver.

  Incest. What should I do with this truth?

  Chapter 25

  Lineage

  After a quick shower, I packed the photos and records of the Whitman clan, and in less than thirty minutes, I showed up at Alyana’s doorstep.

  “Sarah, what a pleasant surprise. I was just about to put the kids down for their naps. Come in.”

  “So early? It’s only eleven.”

  “They both woke up really early this morning. They were full of energy, so now they’re tired and ready to lie down.”

  I followed Alyana into the tiny bedroom where both children were already in their beds, their eyes half shut. We kissed them and tucked them in, and by the time we reached the door, they were both asleep.

  “Want something to drink?” Alyana whispered as we made our way to the room that combined their den, dining room, and kitchen.

  “Thanks. I also woke up early this morning, around two thirty, and heard an interesting story in my attic. Thought I’d run it by you, and see what you can make of it.”

  “Sure thing. Let’s nibble on some cheese, veggies, and crackers while we chat, and I can put my feet up.”

  In no time she arranged a tray of goodies and made some iced tea. We settled in the den and pushed some of the toys aside to give us room on the sofa.

  I began the story with the first photograph of Louise Whitman, and then I showed her the picture with Louise, her daughters, and her mother in front of my house, and then Leonard’s and Ethan’s photo. I followed with the photograph of the three sisters, and the one of Annie with her father Christopher and her baby son Jeremy. I showed her the sepia photographs that came to life with Ethan’s narrative for his father. I ended with the conversation I had heard between Louise and Angela and showed her the birth records in the hidden tin can.

  “Great story,” was the first thing Alyana said.

  I nodded in agreement, having enjoyed the account myself. Listening to my own storytelling, I realized how much I’d learned from them, how well I told the tale, almost like a writer crafting an interesting yarn that captures the imagination of others.

  “What do you make of the conversation between Louise and Angela?” I asked. “Louise was born in 1815. How could she be having a conversation with Angela?”

  “It’s believed by many of my people that where the spirits of our ancestors live, time as we know it doesn’t exist. They’re not in this life, or dimension, if you wish. I think you’ve tapped into that place through Angela. She wants you to know this story. Have you wondered why she’s letting you in on all the ancestry of the twin houses?”

  “I’ve thought and thought about it, but I’m still puzzled.”

  “Did Papa find out if Jeremy was Grandma Angela’s uncle?”

  “Yes, he was. Jeremy was born in 1881 and died in 1898 in a mining accident. That’s how ownership of the house ended up with his little sister, Rachel, Angela’s mother. Jeremy’s older twin brothers died of polio.”

  “So that’s where the twin gene comes from, Angela’s lineage. Nice to know. But wait.. .Ethan was Leonard’s son, right?” Alyana asked.

  “Yes. He adopted twin boys, Henry and Stuart Thompson, who married Amy’s twin girls, Annie and Claudia. Annie, Jeremy’s and Rachel’s mom, married Henry Thompson. That’s where Conrad’s last name Thompson comes from.”

  “But what about the other twin?”

  “From what Louise said today,” I answered, “Claudia, her twin sister, married Stuart Thompson, but she died in childbirth along with her baby. We now know that the cowboy in Jeremy’s story was his uncle, Stuart Thompson.”

  “According to Jeremy’s story, the cowboy runs off to Canada and comes back injured to be cared for by his brother and sister-in-law the year Rachel, Angela’s mom, is born.”

  “Looks that way. Conrad told me the family records show that Stuart married a Linda Saunders in 1884. Their son, Ernest, Conrad’s great-grandfather, was born in 1884 in Conrad’s house. Sorry, your new home,” I clarified, and Alyana smiled.

  “Why wasn’t his wife, Linda, in Jeremy’s story? Why was Stuart cared for by his brother in his home instead of his own with his wife and child? Wait. When was Rachel born?” she asked, a puzzled look about her.

  “In 1887. I know you’re wondering why the cowboy’s wife, Linda, or their son, Ernest, who would’ve been three, didn’t appear in Jeremy’s story either. I’ve wondered myself, and the best I can come up with is that Jeremy just made some parts up and omitted others. He did make up the little girl, Elisa, in the story.”

  “That makes sense. He told you he made her up so the kids at school wouldn’t think he was writing about his own family, didn’t he?”

  “He sure did. If he purposely omitted Linda and little Ernest, then the rest makes sense. We know that Ernest married Elisabeth in 1901. Richard, their son and Conrad’s grandfather, was born a year later in 1902. His sisters were all born about two years apart from one another.”

  “Boy, you know your genealogy! How can you keep up with all these names and dates in your mind like that?”

  “Well, to be honest I’ve created a cheat sheet. I’ve been drawing a family tree and filling in the blanks as the relationships emerge. Odd, isn’t it?”

  “Not odd, amazing. It just clicks for you. Definitely you’ve tapped into the history of the twin houses. Anyway, going back to who’s who. Grandpa Richard’s line comes from Ethan’s adopted sons, Henry and Stuart Thompson. Grandma Angela’s line comes from Amy Rochester. Right?”

  I jumped up, my hands at both sides of my head, making sure my thoughts wouldn’t disappear. “Oh my God! I get it! Angela wants me to know the legitimacy of her family’s lineage. She wants me to know there’s been no inbreeding.” Alyana eyes widened. “Oh...”

  “Even though Ethan was Leonard’s son and Amy was Louise’s daughter, they were not conceived by their incestuous relationship. Only Cora and Laura were theirs, and they never married or had children—”

  “That we know of.”

  “In the story of the three sisters around the kitchen table, Cora was forty-nine and Laura was forty-four. They were alone and bitter. Only Amy had children.”

  “Interesting.” Alyana smiled and tapped the sofa next to her for me to sit back down.

  I complied. We smiled and both sipped our teas as we processed the information.

  “What do I do with it? Other than sharing it with you, Tom, and Conrad, which is important enough as it is, do you think I’m su
pposed to do something else?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Time will tell.”

  After a deep sigh, I relaxed, leaned back on the sofa, and took Alyana’s hand in both of mine. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to be able to speak with you of these strange experiences. Anyone else would think I’m losing my mind.”

  “We know better, don’t we?”

  “Yes we do.”

  “Interesting that the twin gene comes from both Angela’s and Richard’s lineage.”

  “From Louise through Amy on Angela’s side and from Ethan’s adopted twin sons on Richard’s side. Two completely different and separate families.”

  “Now all joined in me and Tom. Angela’s telling us our twins will be fine.”

  We smiled and continued to hold hands as we relaxed on the sofa.

  I returned home relieved, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders. All of these stories, which at first appeared to be quite unrelated, had come full circle to create a tapestry of family heritage that needed to be shared with present and future generations.

  I assumed that now the house would release the tug that kept insisting something needed to be unearthed. It seemed that I now possessed the information Angela wished me to have, so the uneasiness as to what would come next would be gone.

  But I was wrong. The house remained constant in her desire to continue unearthing its secrets.

  Conrad’s arrival that evening brought with it a needed sense of closure. He delighted in hearing of my visit to Alyana and its outcome.

  “I don’t think that I ever thought it necessary to figure out who was related to whom, or how the twin houses came to be. I just took it for granted. The houses were here, been in the family for generations, and we’ve all enjoyed living here. Granted, some more than others. What a story.. .to think that Grandma Angela wanted us to know where we all came from. Who would’ve thought of incest, of all things? Why didn’t she tell us directly before she passed on? Everyone is gone, so there’s no sense in keeping it all secret.” “Don’t know. Maybe she didn’t know the whole story?”

  “I don’t think so. She knew it all right.”