in the world was happening? Davin began to whimper; he was so scared….
He felt the cold bite of the winter wind as Jennifer withdrew her arm from his shoulder. As he watched, she reached for his now-motionless aunt. Gently she picked up her wrist with one hand, brushing snow from her face with the other.
“Amalie, it’s okay.”
His aunt blinked.
Davin rushed forward again, this time just taking her hand, the one Mrs. Mitchell wasn’t holding.
His aunt’s gaze shifted to him. She blinked, then gave a wobbly smile. “I guess I missed the piñata, huh?”
Relief was sweeter than the icing on Jeremy’s birthday cake. “You’re all right?”
“Of course I am, buddy.” But she looked shaky as Mrs. Mitchell helped her sit up from the snow.
“Amalie? What happened?”
“I’m not sure, Jen. It was really weird. But I’m okay. I promise.”
Jeremy glanced at Mr. Mitchell’s face. He seemed relieved. Mrs. Mitchell, too, was smiling. He scrambled to his feet and held out his hands to help his aunt stand. If all the adults thought this was okay, then it must be.
“I’m sorry to break up the party, Jen, but I think we’d better leave.”
Mrs. Mitchell gave her a hug. “Let Aaron drive you home.”
“Really, I’m fine.” Her smile was as bright as ever, and now that she was standing, she was steady and strong.
They were in the car, when Mrs. Mitchell suddenly remembered the treat bags and had Jeremy run to the house to get Davin’s.
“Thanks for inviting me to your party,” Davin said, accepting the bright blue-and-yellow bag through the open passenger window.
“Take care, now!” Everyone waved as his aunt pulled the car out onto the street.
It was cold in the car and quiet. Davin peered at the treat bag in his lap but didn’t feel like checking to see what was inside.
Instead, he checked his aunt. She looked normal, except her skin was kind of white and she was driving slower than usual.
At the next red light, she gave him a smile. “I’m okay. Really, Davin.”
“Then why—”
Her gloved hand reached for his shoulder. “Do you remember my telling you that when Helena is hurt I always know because I get the same feeling?”
Oh-oh. He should have figured this was all connected to Amalie’s twin. Everything bad in his life somehow tied in with her. The mother he wished he didn’t have.
Davin shut his mouth and didn’t ask any more questions.
AMALIE NOTICED Davin’s withdrawal, so common whenever the subject of Helena came up. When the traffic light turned green again, she took her hand from his shoulder and placed it back on the steering wheel.
She felt badly that she’d spoiled the end of the party for him. And just when they were having so much fun. But the urge to rush home was something she couldn’t ignore…maybe she’d find some word from Helena.
She and Davin lived in a rented duplex about six blocks from the Mitchells in Bloor West Village. The Toronto neighborhood was handy to the hospital Amalie worked at—she could take the subway with just one transfer. The neighborhood had once been run-down, but now it was considered trendy. Amalie appreciated the blend of new and old in the shops and cafés that lined both sides of Bloor street.
Since completing her training as a nutritionist, she had dreamed of one day buying the house she now rented. But real estate prices were sky-high for the two-story brick dwellings, with their tiny front porches and high-pitched roofs. It didn’t seem to matter that the buildings were small and packed tight together, many with original plumbing and wiring.
Location, location, location. They were close to the subway, to downtown Toronto, to the lake, to just about everything, it seemed.
Amalie rolled her Jetta behind the Dodge Omni that belonged to the neighbors who lived in the other half of her duplex, then turned to her nephew buckled into the front seat beside her.
“I’m sorry if I scared you, Davin.”
He hadn’t uttered a word since she’d made that reference to her sister. Amalie put her hand to Davin’s head and brushed back hair so fair it was practically white. His eyes shone like clear blue topaz, in the dwindling afternoon light. With coloring just like hers, and her sister’s, Davin had been an exceptionally beautiful child.
But that was changing. Just this year his features had begun to lose their little-boy roundness, taking on a definite masculine shape. He was growing up. Inside, however, he was still her little boy. Too young to understand the odd emotional connection that existed between her and her identical twin.
“Hungry?”
He shook his head.
“Well, how about a cup of hot cocoa, then?” Amalie turned off the ignition and got out of the car. As she removed the glove from her right hand so she could search for the house keys in her purse, she felt the bite of the northwesterly wind on her cheeks and her hand. It was almost February, and while the days had begun to lengthen, the recent interval of cold weather was a reminder that spring was still a good two months away.
Warm air and the lingering aroma from the cinnamon French toast she’d made for breakfast welcomed her as she opened the front door. Letting her nephew go ahead, Amalie stomped the snow from her boots, watching it scatter over the gray-painted boards of the porch floor.
Once inside she passed along the narrow hallway to the kitchen at the back of the house. Immediately, she scanned the kitchen counter. Sure enough, the red light on the answering machine was flashing.
Davin had disappeared into the living room. She could hear a murmur from the television, and decided against calling him back to pick up the ski jacket and mitts he’d left lying on the floor.
Looking past tired, oak-veneer cupboards, dull yellowed linoleum and cracked and chipped countertops, Amalie reached for the playback button on the machine with a shaking hand.
You have one message.
She dropped to a kitchen chair and stared out the window. A weathered maple dominated the narrow strip of yard. To her the branches appeared weary after a valiant season of struggling against freezing temperatures, driving winds and snowfall after snowfall.
The machine clicked, and her mother’s recorded voice came out at her.
“Hello, Amalie. Just wondering why you hadn’t phoned yet this weekend. Your father and I are fine, although Dad’s back is aching after shoveling all that snow from last night’s storm. I hope you and Davin managed to go to church this morning. Give us a call when you get in.”
No word from Helena after all. Amalie’s disappointment fused with the guilt she felt about not going home this
