I really got scared.”
“Did you tell the police about it?”
“Yes, I did, but they didn’t sound like they could do anything about it.”
David swore under his breath. “What did you do?”
“For all intents and purposes, I disappeared. I took back my maiden name, Kelley, and started using my real first name, Martha, instead of Martie, for any official business. The bankruptcy went through under my married name, so when that was over, I was free of debt. I had nothing, but I owed nothing.”
“That’s something, I guess. Lots of people have to start over from the beginning,” David said.
“Yes, that’s what I thought, too. I got a new job. My old company held mine as long as they could but finally hired someone else to take my place. I scraped up enough money for a month’s rent and found the apartment at Mrs. Oberle’s house. I found a new job quick enough—I was good at what I did and had excellent references. I was a rep for a big firm that sold hotel supplies all over the country. You name it, I sold it. It kept me on the road, or on an airplane, but I didn’t mind.
“I was doing well enough. I kept busy with my work so I wouldn’t have to think about the past. I had no friends and didn’t want any. They might ask me about my life, and I couldn’t talk about it. You’re the first person I’ve been able to tell all this to.”
“So how do Marnie and Ray come into the story?” David asked.
Martie sighed. “I’ll get to them in a minute.
“I hadn’t been living at Mrs. Oberle’s very long when my father died. That was something else I added to my list of things to put out of my mind. If I didn’t, I would be overwhelmed with grief. I went through his funeral closed off from the world.
“Luckily, he had made all the plans years before when he found out the diagnosis of Alzheimer’s, so I didn’t have to deal with that. A few weeks later I received a letter from his attorney. In it was a letter my father had written to me before his memory got too bad. It told me about my mother and Marnie.”
David leaned forward, fascinated with the story.
“He told me my mother’s name was Pamela, something I hadn’t known before then, and he told me about my identical twin sister. He said although the marriage was a disaster, I was a blessing to him and that he loved me dearly.” She touched a tissue to her eyes before continuing.
“There was a big age difference between him and Pamela, he said, and he ought to have thought it over more before marrying her. They were thrilled to have twin daughters, and each named one after an aunt of theirs. I was named Martha after an aunt of his, and my sister was named Marnetta for one of my mother’s aunts, but we immediately became Martie and Marnie.
“We weren’t very old when they divorced, maybe three or so. When they split up, neither of them wanted to see the other one again, so they split us up, too. That was a terrible plan,” she said angrily, “separating us that way. Terrible not to know your identical twin all your life.”
“Yes, yes it was,” David murmured.
“David, what was Marnie’s maiden name? Pamela’s name? Was it Kelley?”
“No, Kelley would have rung a bell with me when I heard your name if that had been it.” He closed his eyes and thought a minute. “Caldwell. Pamela and Marnie Caldwell.”
“My father’s letter said Pamela left him for another man, and a few months later he gave permission for her new husband to adopt Marnie. I guess he did.
“I don’t know what happened then, because Doctor Means said Marnie was about six when he first started seeing her, and Alice said she was about that age when they moved in across the hall.” Martie smiled for the first time that day. “You don’t know how hard it is not to say I and me instead of she and her, since I was sort of Marnie when they told me all that.”
David chuckled.
“Anyway, Dad’s letter said he wanted me to know I had a mother and an identical twin sister somewhere in the country, although he had no idea where they had gone. I guess Caldwell died, or they got a divorce, too.”
“I guess so. I never heard anything about a husband or