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“Do you have a photo of Felicity that you could give me?” Claire inserted herself for the first time, tackling the situation via her area of expertise.
“Of course.” Vera opened her purse and pulled out a photo album. A few sleeves of pictures were inside. Most of them were dated, but still clear. She handed two photos to Claire. “Both of these are from the summer before…before our world ended. The first one is just Felicity. She’s beaming ear to ear because she’d just won a plaque for scoring the most goals at her camp soccer tournament. The second photo is of Felicity and Hope together.” A wan smile. “Very few people c
ould tell them apart.”
“I can see why,” Claire murmured, studying the photos. “I’m going to start with the one of just Felicity. I don’t want to get hers and Hope’s energies confused, especially since they’re identical twins. If I sense anything at all from the first photo, I’ll move onto the second.”
She shut her eyes, touching her fingertips lightly to Felicity’s image.
A few moments passed.
“I sense joy. Pride. Maybe a little smugness.” Claire’s lips curved. “She beat out Suzie by only two goals.”
“That’s right.” Vera leaned forward, her eyes huge as saucers. “What else can you sense?”
“That was the last game Felicity played. Not because of the abduction. Another reason.” A pensive pause. “I sense impatience, frustration and pain. A lot of it.” Claire’s fingers shifted slightly and came to rest near Felicity’s left elbow. “Her left arm. She can’t bend it. And it hurts terribly. Shooting pain.”
“She broke it,” Hope supplied, visibly awestruck by Claire’s talent. “It was in a cast most of the next summer. The doctor gave her the green light to play again the day before she was kidnapped. I remember how excited she was.”
Claire nodded without opening her eyes. “She was. She loved soccer. She loved sports.” A heartbeat of a pause. “She loved sharing them with your father.”
Not a flicker of envy crossed Hope’s face. “Thank you for your sensitivity. But my father’s enthusiasm over Felicity was common knowledge. It wasn’t that he loved her more than he loved me. They just had more in common. I never felt neglected or uncared for. Besides—” Hope patted her mother’s hand “—I had my mom to share my love of reading and learning with. So it all evened out.”
As she thought back, tears dampened Hope’s eyes. “We were a happy, well-adjusted family. Felicity and I were different, but we were best friends. Anyone who hurt one of us had to deal with the other. I adored her. She adored me. My childhood, and a chunk of my life, disappeared when she did.”
On that note, Claire opened her eyes long enough to switch photos, laying the shot of Hope and Felicity in the palm of her hand. She ran her fingers over the twins’ happy images.
“I can feel the love you’re describing,” she said. “Not just from you. From your sister, as well. The connection between you is strong. I doubt anything could come between you. Sometimes she got scared. She didn’t want anyone to know. You made it better.”
A nostalgic smile touched Hope’s lips. “Felicity was afraid of going to the doctor. She always associated it with getting a shot—and she was terrified of shots. Tongue depressors, too. There was no way of getting around those visits when it came to our family doctor, although we racked our brains to come up with something. But school was another matter entirely. It was easy to fool the school nurse. Felicity was not only afraid, she didn’t want her friends to make fun of her. So whenever she got sick during the school day and the teacher made her go to the nurse, she went to the bathroom instead. I went to the nurse’s office and pretended I was her. I complained of her symptoms and got the nurse to call our mother. Felicity stuck out the day, and I got to go home to TV and ice cream.”
Hope gave a small laugh. “It’s a good thing I didn’t go to camp, though, because I couldn’t have pulled it off there. Every time I visited Felicity at camp, or went with my parents to see her in a game, the camp nurse knew who was who. She was sweet. And she claimed that each of us had our own sparkle.”
“Linda,” Vera said affectionately. “She was so fond of Felicity. She was one of the women I mentioned who came to our evening prayer vigils. Even after those initial weeks, Linda and I stayed in touch. We still do, now and then. But Hope is right. Linda always could tell the girls apart. So could our next-door neighbor, Gladys Evans and Fern Chappel, the school librarian. It seemed to be a gut feeling with some people. Of course, it was never an issue with Sidney and me. To us, each twin was unique and distinctive, physically and characteristically.”
Turning, Vera arched an eyebrow at Hope. “And, by the way, I caught on to that little game you and your sister played with the school nurse. I passed the details of your trick along to her. When one of you was sick, she knew just who to tell me to pick up. She’d describe what her patient was wearing, and I’d let her know if it really was Felicity or if it was her very loyal and naughty twin.”
“Oh.” Hope’s smile was sheepish. “We always did wonder why you sometimes got mixed up about who you were picking up and giving a sick day to.”
“Well, now you know.”
“Felicity wasn’t the only one who was sometimes afraid,” Claire pronounced.
“No, she wasn’t.” Hope’s smile faded. “I was afraid of sleeping alone when our parents were out. So, on those nights, she made sure we stayed in the same bed. We told our parents that it was because our babysitter’s talking on the phone kept me up. But it wasn’t true. I was scared. That’s why we were together the night of the kidnapping.”
“Yes,” Claire said softly. “But that night she was also scared for you. She saw the person in black go to you first. You were asleep. She saw your face get covered. She saw you go limp. She didn’t know what happened to you.”
“You can visualize the night of Felicity’s kidnapping?” Casey asked Claire, stunned by the realization.
Claire’s eyes opened. “Fragments of it, yes. The kidnapper was dressed in black. Wearing a hooded sweatshirt. And gloves. I can visualize black gloves. The handkerchief was drenched in chloroform. That’s all I see. I can feel fear and confusion. I can sense a commotion. But there’s nothing distinct. It’s all amorphous flashes.” A sigh. “I wish I could tell you more.”
“It’s a start,” Casey said. “A good one. I think we’ve made some real progress today.” A pause. “On several fronts.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Oh, Krissy, we have the whole lot of them so confused. They don’t know where to look first. And they’ll never look here. You’re safe.
I love watching you play with Oreo and Ruby. Your little face lights up, and you’re in a world of your own imagination. Imagination is a wonderful thing. It opens doors and dreams that no one can take away from you. It makes things right when everything is wrong. How well I know that. I’ll help keep you in that beautiful, magical world. I’ll keep you safe, make that imaginary world a reality.
