Peggy Holloway - Judith McCain 01 - Blood on White Wicker by Peggy Holloway Page B

I thought at the time. The house was on Lake Pontchartrain. I was to stay with this older couple named Lessiter and I was the only foster kid they had, so I thought it was like being an only child. I didn’t have to share my room and had my own bath again. But I would have to go to school. The judge had been very firm on that.
    By now, it was September and I was thinking that Julia, the artist who looked like me, would be back home and maybe in New Orleans. I knew that Jean wouldn’t be able to get back in touch with me, so I needed to get down to Royal Street.
    Mrs. Lessiter seemed to be a little addled brained and didn’t seem to know what was going on most of the time. But Mr. Lessiter was very kind to me and I, at first, pretended he was my grand daddy.
    I asked him one day if he would take me to Royal Street. He didn’t want to take me and I ended up crying with my head on his shoulder and telling him everything. He then agreed to take me. I think it was the tears that did it and I made a note of that to myself.
    When Saturday came around, Mr. Lessiter took me to see Jean. When Jean saw me he said, “My God, Vicky, I’ve been trying to call you but I keep getting the same message that this is a non working number.”
      I introduced Mr. Lessiter and explained a little about what was going on. No details, just that Dave was out of town and I was now living with the Lessiters.
    “Can you try to call Julia now?” I asked.
    I watched as he picked up the phone and dialed.
    “Hey darling, guess who I have in my shop with me right now? You will? Oh okay.”
    He handed the phone to me. “She will be here next Saturday, but she wants to speak to you.”
    Her voice was the sweetest one I had ever heard. Tears were rolling down my cheeks. She asked me a lot of questions and I was just shaking my head and then realized she couldn’t see me so I started answering.
    She asked me if we really looked alike, “We could be the same person,” I said.
    She asked when my birthday was and when I told her she told me it was the same as hers.
    “Were you adopted?” I asked her.
    “No,” she replied. “If I were, my parents would have told me. Just one last question, are you artistic too?”
    I told her that not as far as I knew. I wanted so badly to ask her about the dream, because by now I knew she had to be my twin sister no matter what her parents had told her. I decided to save that until I saw her on Saturday. I knew it would be a long week, but I didn’t know that my life would take another major turn before then.
    That night, after dinner, I was sitting on my bed studying when there was a soft knock on the door. Mr. Lessiter stuck his head in.
    “Mrs. Lessiter has gone to bed early tonight. She’s having one of her headaches. Can I come in?”
    I was wearing my pajamas and was sitting cross-legged on the bed. I got up and put my books on the desk. When I turned back around, he had made himself comfortable on my bed. He was sitting with his legs outstretched and his shoulders propped up on one of my pillows against the headboard.
    He patted the bed and said, “Come sit over here by me and let me hold you.”
    I felt alarm bells go off inside my head, but told myself that he was like a grandfather. So I jumped on the bed and snuggled against him. He smelled like tobacco and peppermint.
      “Oh God, You feel so good,” he said.
    Again there were alarms going off in my brain but I kept talking myself out of it. He was only holding me.
    “Did you enjoy going to Royal Street today? You excited about meeting the other girl? Aren’t you grateful I took you there?” He was rubbing his hand up and down my arm and breathing so hard, I thought he was having some kind of seizure.
    Then what he said next took away all doubts I had about his intent. “Oh God, I need you so much darling. I know you learned how to please men when you were with Dave. Please have mercy on me. It’s been so long for me.”
    I jumped off the