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and thoughts. She says it feels like something the good Lord didn’t intend. Scooting to the edge of the sofa so she doesn’t have to look Izzy in the eye, Arie begins rubbing the ends of her fingers, one after the other, no doubt wishing she held Grandma’s rosary in her hands so she could rub its smooth, ivory-colored beads instead of her own fingertips. But the rosary is upstairs, hanging from Arie’s headboard, where she has kept it since they arrived.
    “I believe Elizabeth will sleep in her own bed tonight,” Aunt Julia says. She stands, tugging at her slim skirt where it buckles on her hips, and walks over to the front door. “I was with her just this afternoon at Mrs. Richardson’s. She’ll be happy as can be to see you two.” Pushing open the screen door, Aunt Julia leans out and looks up and down the street. “I bet she’d be pleased to help you find that cat of yours. Just as soon as she’s home, we’ll all go together. We’ll take out the sedan, drive over to Grandma’s, and have a look around.”
    Outside, a few doors slam shut and, soon after, engines fire up, rumble, and fade as the cars roll down the street. The bushes along the west side of the house rustle. The men are kicking them or swatting at them with yardsticks. They must think Elizabeth is hiding there. Aunt Julia rubs her thin reddish eyebrows, inhales a deep breath, spins around on one heel, and returns to her seat at the larger sofa. Deep voices continue to call out to Elizabeth. “Come on home,” they shout. “Supper’s on the table.” Following Aunt Julia’s example, the girls rest their hands in their laps, cross their ankles, and sit with a straight back.
    As the twins stare out the front window, Aunt Julia trying to smile each time they glance her way, they realize the neighborhood is quiet. The voices have stopped calling. The girls close their eyes and each takes a breath, together at the same time because that’s how it works between them. They don’t want to hear another man shout out that supper is waiting or that Papa is home and misses his Elizabeth. After a few more moments of silence, the twins open their eyes, look at each other and then at Aunt Julia. Arie squirms to the edge of the loveseat, stands, and leaps into the center of the room. She claps her hands together and draws them to her chest. Aunt Julia smiles, shows her teeth. She hears the silence too. All three turn when a heavy foot hits the front porch. Aunt Julia jumps from the sofa.
    Uncle Bill’s head is the first thing to poke through the open screen door. He’s wearing his black Tigers cap, the same one he pulls on every night as soon as he gets home from work. His hair is almost as dark as that hat. He crosses into the house, his black steel-toed work boots clumping on the wooden floor, and as he passes Arie, still standing in the center of the room, he scoops her up with one arm, cradles her to his side, and together they drop down on the large sofa opposite Izzy. Aunt Julia closes her eyes and exhales a long breath. Taking steps that make no noise at all, she follows Uncle Bill and sits next to him. Uncle Bill wraps his other arm around Aunt Julia, settling back into the sofa’s deep, square cushions, dragging her with him. She laughs and slaps at his chest, but not slaps that would hurt. Then she leans into him, lets her head rest on his shoulder, and seems to forget for a moment that the twins are in the room.
    “I’m so relieved,” Aunt Julia says, sinking into Uncle Bill’s side.
    Grandma says the girls are the spitting image of their mother, but Izzy and Arie don’t know their mother. Grandma says take a gander at your aunt Julia. That’s close enough. Izzy resists a peek at her own flat chest. There is no chance Aunt Julia ever looked like Izzy and Arie and no chance Izzy and Arie will ever grow to look like Aunt Julia.
    Stretching an arm around Uncle Bill’s waist, Aunt Julia hooks a finger through one of his belt loops.