Mirror, The (18 page)

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 gig 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 almost 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."

Katie turned to Mike and saw a young man with an ashen face.

"You've never mentioned an interest in college."

"There are a lot of things I've never mentioned," Mike said.

Katie looked at him thoughtfully.

"Why haven't you mentioned college? That's pretty important."

"It's complicated."

Katie didn't care for that answer, but she knew she didn't have a right to anything more. She was an interloper, after all, a time-traveling intruder who would be gone in a matter of months. Even so, she wanted to know. She cared about Mike and wanted to know everything about him.

"It's all right, Michael. If you don't want to say anything, you don't have to," Mary said.

"Say what?" Katie asked.

Mary put her fork on her plate and pushed it away.

"The reason Michael hasn't enrolled in college is because he's been taking care of me," Mary said. "He's been working nearly full-time since January to help pay the bills."

"Are you OK?" Katie asked.

"Right now I am. I feel pretty good. Today has been a good day."

"I'm not sure what you're saying."

Mary glanced at Mike, as if awaiting a signal. When he nodded, she smiled at him sweetly and then returned her attention to Katie. She took another deep breath and continued.

"About a year ago, doctors here found tumors in each of my breasts," Mary said.

Katie stiffened in her seat.

"They didn't know whether they were malignant, so they sent tissue samples to a lab back east. When the results came back, I learned the worst. I learned that I had cancer."

"I am so sorry," Katie said.

"Don't be. There's more to the story," Mary said. "I was shocked at first – and depressed, of course. I knew the odds weren't with me. My grandmother and two aunts died of breast cancer at a young age. I knew I was up against it, but I didn't want to just roll over. I wanted to stick around as long as I could for Patsy and Michael, so I did the only thing I could do. I had a double mastectomy and had my lymph nodes removed."

"Are you better?"

"'Better' is a relative term, Katie. I feel better. Believe it or not, I look better too. Last fall, I didn't think I'd make it to the summer. I didn't think I'd make it to
May
, but I'm still here. Whether I make it farther depends on God and the doctors. Fortunately, I have an understanding employer and compassionate children. I like my chances."

Katie sat in stunned silence as she tried to process Mary's words – both the good and the bad. She wondered why awful things happened to nice people. She hated that life could be so randomly cruel and unfair.

"Is there anything I can do?" Katie asked.

"There is," Mary said.

"What?"

"You've already done it."

"I don't understand."

"You've brought a smile to my boy's face."

CHAPTER 31: GINNY

Saturday, May 23, 1964

Sitting in her recliner in the living room with a bowl of cereal in her lap, Ginny stared at the television and shook her head. She was OK with flying rodents that saved the day, but not if they had to do so in black and white.

"I miss color," Ginny said.

When she didn't get a reply to her thoughtful admission, she glanced at the duplex duchess in the other reclining throne. Katie, dressed in a bathrobe, stared blankly out the window.

"You came in late," Ginny said. "How was your night?"

"Mike's mom has cancer."

Ginny dropped her spoon in her bowl.

"She has what?"

"She has breast cancer," Katie said matter-of-factly. "She's already had both breasts and her lymph nodes removed."

"Oh, Katie, I'm sorry. Is she better now?"

"She seems to be – for the most part, anyway – but you know how cancer works. It goes away for a while and then usually comes back. If it does in her case, then there's not a lot she'll be able to do. She's treating each day like a blessing."