Love Comes in Three

Chapter Fifty-Six "Confessions Part Two"

            Thomas stood there watching me, looking for some sort of reaction.  But wait, he said he's not Thomas?  I did not know what to say or do.  I felt my breath quaver, "If this is some kind of joke . . . "

            "I'm sorry," he whispered reaching towards me, "it's not a joke and I meant to tell you earlier . . . "

            "Tell me what?" I shouted, swatting his hand away.  My hands were trembling and I was feeling slightly dizzy.

            "Margaret, my name is Isaac," he breathed, "Thomas and I, we're twins."

            I felt my legs begin to give and I tried to stumble back towards the chair, "No, you're just playing a cruel joke," I gasped.  He caught me and helped me to sit.

            "I never meant for this to happen . . . " he knelt beside me, still holding my hand gently, "I never come here, but I wanted to see Leah."

            "Leah knows?" I asked shakily.

            "She's the only one," he smiled, "she's the only family I have here." He looked at me solemnly, "I should start from the beginning . . . Thomas is the oldest son, so he held the favor with our mother."

            "But if you really are twins," I interrupted still trying to decide if he was in earnest.

            "We are," he laughed, "but the eldest son inherits, you see.  Now it never bothered me really, I knew no better and was a content child.  As we grew though, Thomas was used to getting his way and he could not be bested.  Shortly after Leah arrived his temper took a turn," he breathed out as if he was relieved to finally be telling his tale. I could only sit and listen, trying to understand. "I think we were about nine when it happened . . . we were practicing our fencing in this very room and I got the upper hand on him for once," he smiled at me like it was a good memory, "but Thomas . . . " his smile faltered into an awkward laugh.

            "Brothers do scuffle though," I implied, "with three brothers I can assure you of that."

            "Will you please just listen, darling?"  He pulled off his jacket and began rolling up his sleeve, "Thomas retaliated after our match and . . . " he showed me his arm, a scar beginning on his wrist just below the thumb ran for several inches along his skin.

            I gasped and moved closer, letting my fingers gently glide over the smooth tissue, "Your brother did this?"

            "Yes," he blinked, "and there were other occasions . . . but Thomas always pleaded that I brought it on myself or that he was only trying to protect himself from me. So before our eleventh birthday I was sent to live with an aunt and uncle. I did not see or hear from my family since." He looked off into the distance and I could feel the tears welling in my eyes as he told his story. "Then two years ago I received a letter from Leah and we began an exchange. She had never forgotten about me although my brother and my parents had told everyone they lost me and I was written off for dead." I found myself grasping his hand in mine, "We agreed to meet next time she came to London, and so we have had our little trips to the gallery or in the park."

            "You are the friend that keeps her out," I said coming to the realization.

            "Yes," he laughed, "I guess you can say that . . . and the day that you arrived was the first time she convinced me to come see her paintings. I was impressed with her skill and we got carried away talking about art and I could not make my escape without being noticed."