Donna Maria was standing on her squeaky porch when Katie approached her house. The light breeze rustled her skirts, startling Katie.
“I’ve been expecting you,” the old woman said.
Though Donna Maria had never indicated that she’d heard of the Mikkado Massacre, for a long time Katie couldn’t shake the fact that the woman reminded her of Mrs. Marković, who had paid a visit to their camp and spoken so cryptically to her the very weekend of the disaster. In many ways the two women were similar—elderly and soft-skinned, prone to perplexing statements, and scented with lavender soap. But they differed in at least one significant way: Donna Maria never frightened Katie. The part of her that was Janeal recalled Mrs. Marković as being creepy at best, and too strange to be considered friendly.
Donna Maria took Katie’s hand and guided her to a wobbly folding chair. Katie heard moths fluttering against glass. She guessed the kitchen window. Donna Maria sat too, in a chair that creaked.
“You have more trouble,” Donna Maria said.
Katie touched the knot in her sweater belt. “I hate to come only for trouble.”
“Bah. You come for any reason, daughter.”
Katie pulled the sweater sleeves down over her cold hands. “A new resident came to the house today. She hadn’t been there an hour before I found myself telling her my story.”
“Then she’s more gifted than I at drawing you out.”
“I don’t think it’s that. It’s more like she and I have this bond. Like I’ve known her a long time.”
The boards beneath Donna Maria began to knock rhythmically. She must have sat in a rocking chair.
After a few seconds the widow said, “Like sisters.”
Katie hadn’t thought of Janice as sisterly, though the comparison seemed helpful. But the word made Katie self-conscious of how little thought she’d given to explaining herself. The ludicrousness of her private thinking would embarrass her once she said it aloud.
“Out with it, daughter.”
“Identical sisters,” Katie said. “Almost . . . the same person.”
She expected Donna Maria to laugh, or to challenge her. She did neither. “What makes you think you and this woman are so much the same?”
“It will take some explaining.”
Donna Maria patted the back of Katie’s hand. “See? This is why we have no time for small talk.”
That made Katie smile.
In halting phrases, Katie explained Janice’s preoccupation with her ring, then realized she’d have to explain first that her name wasn’t really Katie, and why. She finished that and began to relay Janice’s remark about Robert, then realized she’d never told Donna Maria about him, let alone that he’d shown up at the house coincidentally close to Janice’s arrival. All these details took some time to unravel. It was backward, circuitous storytelling. Donna Maria let her go about it without interrupting.
“I’m not sure what I’m trying to express,” Katie finished.
“You think you and Janice are the same person. This Janeal.”
Stated in such frank terms, the idea caused Katie some panic. Did she want to put it that way? She wasn’t sure. “I know I’m Janeal. But Janice is an unknown quantity.”
“Have you asked her?”
Katie barked out a laugh. “No! I’d lose money from my donors if word got out I was asking questions like that.” Her humor passed. “They’d think I have a psychological disorder. MPD or something like it.”
Donna Maria did not reply.
“You don’t think . . .”
“Lucille interviewed Janice, you said.”
She nodded and added, “I was with them.”
“Then Lucille can confirm that—”
“—there were two of us in the room? How do you propose I go about asking her such a thing?”
“Tough problems call for tough questions.”
“Donna Maria!”
“This could be nothing more than a freak coincidence, Katie.”
“I’d be willing to entertain that possibility if Robert and Janice hadn’t knocked on my door within days of each other. That’s coincidence enough, don’t you think?”
“I’ve had stranger experiences in my long life.”
“What if Janice is an imposter?”
“Yes. What if ?”
“How would she have known what my tattoo was? How could she have known I showed it to Robert?”
“Maybe she wasn’t talking about your Robert.”
“He’s not mine.”
“Or maybe she knows Robert.”
“He had no idea who she was.”
“Then maybe they are both playing a trick on you.”
Katie threw up her hands. “Why would they do that? Robert and a woman I’ve never met before in my life?”
“So we’re down to two options: she’s a complete stranger, or you and she are the same person.”
“There have got to be other choices. Maybe I do know her somehow. But one person can’t inhabit two bodies! That’s insanity.”
The widow stayed silent.
Katie lowered her voice. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to be rude. But listen to us talk!”
“I have seen stranger things, daughter. I’ve seen miracles. I’ve seen God’s hand at work in the world.”
The quiet settled between them and Katie waited for her to explain.
“ ‘And the Lord said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job?’ ” The breeze carried her words away.
Katie waited for her to say more, and when she didn’t, Katie groped for some meaning. “I’m not Job.”
“ ‘And Satan answered the Lord, and said, Doth Job fear God for naught?’ ”
Now Donna Maria was sounding more like the Mrs. Markovic´ Katie remembered. She shivered. “I don’t understand.”
“Who can imagine what God and Satan discuss? Certainly Job had no idea God was gambling with his life,” Donna Maria said. “What other deals might they strike involving us? Tell me again about the night that this happened.”
“Sanso found me at the front of the community house. I followed him upstairs—”
“Before that.”
“I found the money in Dad’s cabinet. I set the house on fire.”
“No, earlier still.”
Katie frowned and put her fingers at her temples. “When I went with Sanso?”
“There was a visitor at your camp. She spoke to you.”
“Mrs. Marković?” Katie searched her memory. Had she told Donna Maria about her? She would have sworn she hadn’t before now.
“What did she say?”
“When did I tell you about her?”
Donna Maria rested her hand lightly atop Katie’s. This time she laughed, and Katie’s fingers tingled as if they’d been asleep.
Why Donna Maria would dodge the simple query made it hard for Katie to recall the long-forgotten conversation. But the electric sensation in her fingers brought to mind Mrs. Marković’s shocking touch, the connection that seemed to split her head in two, and the static that charged the air of the game room, cracking like a whip. Katie experienced no such headache now, only the unusual warmth of Donna Maria’s soft skin.
“You’ve always been my favorite,” the old woman whispered. “A good child. Now, the devil—well, he would place his bets on the other side.”
Katie snatched her hand back, alarmed. “What do you mean?”
“There are two chambers in every heart,” Donna Maria said.
Katie remembered now. She drew in a sharp breath. “One for Judas and one for John. She said one must be pumped out or both would die.”
The sound of Donna Maria’s chair rocking across the weak porch boards ceased. “Perhaps God arranged for them both to live.”