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  “You found each other again. And I’d discovered the boy I cared about had grown up. Yet, he still saw only you as his wife.”

  Gertie stumbled over to the fireplace and toyed with one of the picture frames. Incidentally, it was one of Gretchen’s favorite. A picture from when they were ten years old at a picnic with the Ozingas. Clad in identical bathing suits and holding rubber duckies.

  “As long as neither of us could have him, I was content. But he started to infiltrate. I begged you to not let him come between us. But you did. And I can’t allow it.”

  The note of warning made the hair on Gretchen’s neck stand up. “What does that mean, you can’t allow it?”

  Gertie let a finger drift over the picture of them. “I love you, Gretchen. I always have and always will. You’re the other half of my soul. My twin who understands me better than anyone else.”

  A lump formed in her throat. “I don’t know you, Gertie. Not anymore.”

  Her sister had the grace to wince. “I can’t share Kwasi with you. I won’t stand by and watch you both grow closer and shut me away. I want him for myself and I’ll take out any woman who gets in my way.”

  Gertie’s eyes hardened. “Including you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The drive to Darden Villas with Kojo was a short one. Every couple of weeks, they visited Luke at the assisted living facility for Alzheimer’s patients. It was a sad commentary for the man who had risked his life to rescue them, only to end up having his mind eaten away by mental deterioration.

  “I hope he’s having a good day,” Kwasi said to his brother.

  “I called and checked with the staff. They say he’s doing well.”

  “Well, that’s something.”

  Silence lapsed between them. It happened more often these past two weeks and Kwasi knew the cause.

  Gretchen. Her presence had caused a rift between them.

  There was nothing Kwasi could or wanted to do about it.

  As far as he was concerned, he’d been married for twenty years. Fanciful, he knew it to be, as no court of law would uphold their childhood vows, but it meant something to him.

  Gretchen didn’t see it the same way. She made it plain they needed to get to know each other again. To find out if this, what they had, was real. If and when they decided to take things further, she wouldn’t mind a walk down the aisle.

  “To renew our vows,” he responded to her logic stubbornly.

  “No, Kwasi.” She admonished with a wag of her finger. “To create new ones.”

  These past two weeks with her had cinched it for him. Gretchen and he were the perfect blend. Each day he rediscovered and unearthed more facets of her personality that made him fall more in love with her.

  Gretchen’s intelligence was on par with her beauty. Major universities across the globe reached out to her. The woman could run intellectual circles around anyone. Well-read, opinionated, and a dedicated researcher, she gave all of herself to her passion for primitive peoples and their culture. Why wouldn’t she? Her background wasn’t all that dissimilar from theirs.

  Even more was finding the kind-hearted playmate of his youth hadn’t changed. Close to home, she had close ties to the Native American communities in the state and lobbied for their interests. Her affinity for their culture had made her a valuable member to them and they considered her part of their tribe.

  She’d matured into a woman who enriched his life in the same way she had as a child. Each day, he woke up thinking about her, anxious to be in her presence. One glance of her doll-like eyes sent his pulse to racing. Though he’d kept their physical intimacy to kissing, with no help from her, he knew it wouldn’t be too long before he’d want to take it further.

  To do that, they had to be married. Again. There was no way he would let anything or anyone remotely have a chance of getting between them.

  Kojo’s dry voice interrupted his thoughts. “Kwasi, wake up. We’re here.”

  He blinked. They’d arrived.

  After signing in at the front desk, they strolled down the winding halls until they reached one of the less filled common areas. The squeaky wheels of the snack cart rolled by. The blank stares of residents in wheelchairs saddened him. Support staff walked the more able residents up and down the halls.

  He’d rather get hit by a car in his old age than end up in a place like this.

  Luke hadn’t been as lucky though. The one saving grace was that for whatever reason, Luke remembered him and Kojo. Maybe not accurately, but he knew them.

  “Hi Kwasi, Kojo. How are my boys doing today?” Luke greeted them with a wide, white smile on his dark face. “Care for some coffee?”

  “No, thanks, Luke.” Kwasi answered. “I brought some for you, though.” He placed the Java Cupid brew directly on the table to the left of his right hand. That done, he and Kojo sat down on the couch across from their guardian.

  “So, how’s school today?” Luke nodded toward Kojo.

  “It’s good. Got an A on my math test,” Kojo answered smoothly.

  Kwasi grimaced. Luke had forgotten many things, including the fact they’d been out of high school for almost more than a decade. “Why remind him?’ Kojo remarked one time when Kwasi made mention of it. “Obviously he’s remembering a happy time. Let him have it.”

  “Good, I know how hard math is for you.”

  Luke grabbed the coffee cup and took a sip. “How’s your day been, Kwasi?”

  Kwasi hesitated. Going by precedent, he should make some inane remark about his own non-existent high school day. But one thing this past week had taught him was to be honest about everything. He eyed the shell of the man who’d saved his and his brother’s life. Even if he may not remember the harsh, violent nature of their childhood, maybe he’d remember the good parts.

  “You know, Luke, I met Afia again.”

  Kojo grabbed his sleeve. “What are you doing?”

  He ignored him. “Do you remember Afia, Luke?” It no longer hurt to think of Gretchen’s former name but he still preferred the one she went by nowadays.

  His guardian’s head tilted to the side. “Afia?” he chirped.

  “Yes. Don’t you remember?”

  “No, he doesn’t, you moron. So, stop whatever game you’re trying to play.” Kojo gritted out through his teeth.

  Kwasi ignored him. If it wasn’t for Luke, he’d never have the opportunity to be with her. The man had the right to know his efforts had been worth it.

  “She goes by Gretchen now.”

  Luke’s blank expression drained away, seeping the blood from his face. His skin took on a grayish hue. “Gretchen! Oh God no! We have to get them out of there!”

  The cup of Java Cupid coffee leapt out of Luke’s hand as the man jumped to his feet. “That man killed Donna.” Luke heaved a gut-wrenching sob. “That man killed Donna. He slit her throat in front of me.”

  Ice drenched Kwasi’s body. What made Luke remember?

  “Luke!” Kojo scrambled up. “Calm down. It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” The old’s eyes watered and twitched. “They want the boys. We have to save the boys! We have to find them.”

  “Luke, we’re right here. You did save us.”

  They couldn’t get through to him. He was locked in a mental prison only he perceived. Support staff came at once when they heard his cries but Kwasi held them back with a lift of his hand. Even if the old man flipped over the table, he was not dangerous.

  “You did save us, Luke. Kwasi and I, we’re right here.” Kojo attempted to placate the man in a low voice. “We’re fine.”

  “Donna’s dead. She gave her life for them. I can’t let them take the boys!” His eyes darted around the room, searching for something. His entire body trembled but the set of his jaw told Kwasi that Luke was determined to protect them. A lump formed in his chest.

  “Ten thousand dollars. Those elders sold the boys for ten grand. Dear God, ten thousand dollars! Donna!” Deep sobs wracked the man’s b
ody.

  Kwasi couldn’t move. Sold?

  He and Kojo shared a look. All this time, they believed the elders wanted them for their own devices. Who would want to buy a pair of albino twins?

  “Who bought us, Luke?” Kwasi treaded carefully over to the man. “Who bought Kwasi and Kojo?”

  “The same one who bought the girls!” Luke’s fingers sprinted out and knotted in Kwasi’s shirt. “Had warts on himself the second time, though. The elders—”

  “Luke, let go.” Kwasi saw the orderlies take a step toward them. “No! He’s fine. I got this.”

  Instantly the man released him. “I’m sorry. Whoever you are, please, you have to help me protect them.”

  What was going on? Now Luke didn’t know who they were?

  Kojo came to stand next to him. “Bought the girls? Do you mean—?”

  “Afia and Ayawa! We have to get them out of there now!”

  “Why?”

  A groan of frustration released from the old man. “At first, he only wanted the boys. He’ll sacrifice them to the spirits and add their bones to his necklace. It’s an amulet he believes wards off powers of evil spirits. But when the warts came he wanted the girls, too.”

  Dread coiled its tentacles around Kwasi’s spine. He had a frightful idea he knew where this was going. “Why does he want the girls?”

  “Why else do you think?” Luke shook his head with exasperation. “The girls have the darkest skin in the village. The darker, the purer. He was going to make them his wives so he can rid himself of the warts. The people believe virgins carry special powers to cure diseases.”

  Kojo grabbed Luke by the shoulders. “Was going to take them? Why didn’t he?”

  “Donna,” his voice broke and his face crumpled. “Donna said we should push the marriage between Kwasi and Afia. His albinism, as ridiculous as it sounds, would taint the purity of Afia, so we thought he wouldn’t want her anymore.”

  His head reeled with what he was learning. No wonder the O’Briens, after vehemently being opposed to their marriage, had acquiesced. And a thousand things he’d never understood clicked into place.

  “You and the Ozingas—”

  “We underestimated him. A man like that will not stop until he has what he wants. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, he’ll find the boys. He’ll hurt the girls. The Ozingas will keep the girls safe.”

  “We went to the government but they were no help. They couldn’t extend resources for a small village with no name. But something happened between Kwasi and Afia while we were gone. I can’t remember. Someone’s poisoned Afia and Ayawa’s mother. I know it.”

  “Luke,” Kojo interrupted in a strange voice. “What does the necklace look like?”

  The old man fell the floor, weeping uncontrollably. His voice was barely audible as he whispered. “It’s a necklace of finger bones and rubies.”

  Kojo cursed. “Kwasi, I’ve seen this guy.”

  “What do you mean you’ve seen him?” Even as he spoke the question, something nagged at his own consciousness. It was just out of his reach of comprehension.

  “He killed Donna. But I have to get to the boys. The Ozingas get the girls. They’ll give them new names and take them back home.”

  Luke rocked back and forth. “Donna. Donna.”

  Kojo nodded to the support staff and they came forward. A doctor very gently handled the old man, sedating him until he slumped into unconsciousness moments later.

  “We gotta go. Now.”

  Kwasi nodded, a million thoughts clanging in his head. Even so, he squatted down near the old man’s limp body and hugged him tight. Kojo did the same.

  They hurried out of the facility.

  “Kojo, you don’t really think—”

  “I do, bro.” A muscle clench in his brother’s jaw. “This guy somehow found us after all this time. He’s been at Java Cupid for days now. I’ve seen him when I’ve gone in and out. Sits in this old car, smoking a cigar.”

  “I’ve never seen him.”

  Kojo cut him a glare. “You been too busy with Gretchen to see anything else.”

  Kwasi ignored the jibe as another horrific thought superseded it. “It’s not just us he’s after, then. He’s after Gretchen and her sister.”

  Gretchen smiled at the helper doll. Life was never so good as it was now. Kwasi was the man she’d waited her whole life for.

  An impetuous smugness overtook her. Hadn’t she known that as a child?

  Sighing happily, she put herself back to work with the event details for tomorrow. All of her contacts were in the city now, prepared to help make the event memorable for the children.

  Arts, crafts, dances, and a storytelling time complete with a tour of the museum with lunch and snacks.

  Most of all, she looked forward to sharing her love of primitive cultures with the children. In doing so, she hoped to one day pass the banner on to them.

  “Am I too ambitious in my hopes?” she asked the helper doll.

  The doll remained still but Gretchen rubbed its beady eyes anyway. A vision of her sister a week ago floated before her. Gertie had moved out of the house they shared without a backward glance. Jaw set, face stern. Her sister could not and would not be happy for her.

  Frowning, Gretchen raised the Java Cupid cup and re-read the same message that had been put there. “Love forgives everything, even death.”

  When she first read the message, she thought perhaps the message meant forgiveness for her part in the deaths of Kwasi’s parents. Over the past two weeks, they’d talked about everything. Kwasi truly did not hold her responsible anymore. For that she was grateful. The weight of guilt had subsided as each day, she fell in deeper into love with the man who made her his own many years ago.

  She had gained Kwasi but lost her sister.

  Gretchen sighed. Death wasn’t always a cessation of physical existence. It could be the deliberate murder of a bond as Gertrude had done.

  How could Gertie let a man come between them? Was her obsession with Kwasi stronger than their bond? Should a lifetime of sharing the same heart be destroyed by love?

  Her phone vibrated on the table. Kwasi’s number flashed on the screen.

  “Hello, Kwasi.” She leaned back in bliss, giddy as ever.

  “Hi, Gretchen.” His low timbred voice sent a little shiver down her spine. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just getting things ready for tomorrow. How did the visit with Mr. O’Brien go? Did he have a good day?”

  “That’s what I needed to talk with you about.”

  A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. “Hold on a minute, Kwasi.” She muted the call and then set the phone down. “Yes?”

  “Delivery for Gretchen Ozinga.” A male voice called out.

  “Coming.”

  Strange the front desk wouldn’t have signed for the delivery or they didn’t contact her to sign for the package personally. She got up and opened the door. A low cap hung over the delivery man’s head and behind him was a flatbed trolley with a large container.

  “Morning.”

  He brushed past her in an abrupt fashion, bringing his delivery in. A pungent smell of cigar smoke followed him and she held her breath.

  A little perturbed at his rudeness - she hadn’t given him permission to come in - she let it slide. Just because her life was perfect…well not perfect, but good, didn’t mean everyone else had the same fortune.

  “I guess the front desk didn’t want the liability for this one,” the delivery man said.

  She smiled appropriately, wondering what the package was. As far as she knew, she hadn’t any large items being shipped to her for any exhibits for the museum. And from what she could see, this was definitely a large item. Painting? No way, it wouldn’t have been sent like this. Wracking her brain, she said, “Who’s the sender?”

  “I’m not sure,” the delivery man responded. “Here’s the information if you want to view it.”

  He held out the small t
ablet for her to view it when it suddenly clattered to the floor. “Oh man! That’s my behind if it’s broken,” the man grumbled.

  “Oh, I hope it’s not broken.” She bent to pick it up before the man could and straightened. “I know how I would feel if—”

  Words died away when she looked up into the man’s face. “Wait. I know you. You’re the guy in the wheelchair.”

  The man’s eyes stared into her own. Something dark and oily skittered across her nerve endings.

  “’Fraid you’re mistaken,” he answered.

  Gretchen squinted harder at him. “No, I’m not. You’re the guy in the wheelchair but you look different. What happened to all the warts on your face?”

  The delivery man snapped his fingers. “Oh! I know who’re you talking about. Weird-looking guy in wheelchair? Ugly? Bumps all over his face?”’

  “Well, I—”

  “I know who that guy is. Yeah, that’s my twin brother. He wanted to get to you first but I beat him to it.”

  The sudden movement of his arm was the only thing she saw before she heard a loud POP! A barrage of fists slammed into her body. All her muscles contracted like stone while pain lanced up and down her body in arcs. She tried to speak, to say something, but nothing came out. The agony lasted for a lifetime before it stopped and she collapsed into the arms of the delivery man.

  Every muscle ached, sore as if she had Charley Horses stampeding over her entire body. Conversely, the flood of adrenaline raced through her veins so she felt both exhausted and exhilarated.

  Cigar smoke clogged her nostrils as she took in deep breaths. What in the world was happening? Why was this happening? Who was this person

  The small taser which wreaked havoc on her system was waved in front of her face. The delivery man raised her chin with his forefinger.

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Which do you want?”

  The cigar man returned the lid on the metal container where Gretchen Ozinga so graciously placed herself. Then he picked up the phone, saw the name on the ID, and unmuted it.

  “Hello, Kwasi.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Names aren’t important here. Not for you anyway. See, I’ve been waiting for this moment a very long time.”