“Yes,” she said. “He gave it to me and told me to keep it for seven years and then he would bring me its mate. He did find me just seven years later, but neither of us ever mentioned Rama and Sita. We were married, I often told myself, without their blessing. Paul didn’t come to the wedding. None of his family did. My mother and some of my friends from New York were there. But I never saw Paul again.”
“If you did see him—” Judy began.
But Helen Riker was crying now.
“I’d still love him, I guess. Little Paul is really named for him, not for Mr. Riker. I was always a little afraid of old Uncle Paul. And now I’m afraid of meeting either of them. Can you guess why?”
“Because you kept the green goddess?”
“Yes, but it’s more than that. I’m afraid of what may have happened during the years I didn’t know him. If he’s grown up to be bitter and cruel like his uncle, with no understanding of children— And if he hasn’t—why, then he’s probably married to someone else. I’d pretend I didn’t care any more if I found out Paul was happily married.”
“I see,” Judy said, and there were tears in her eyes.
“You really do, don’t you?” Mrs. Riker spoke as if she wasn’t used to having people understand her feelings. But now that someone did, she was ready to pour out her heart.
“That was what made it so hard,” she went on with her story. “I loved the green doll, as I called her, and didn’t want to part with her, because Philip had given her to me. After he was killed in the accident two years ago, it seemed even harder to part with her, and I didn’t, even though we needed money desperately. She reminded me of those happy days when the three of us played together and took turns and I didn’t have to choose between them. They were twins—”
“Wait a minute!” Judy stopped her. “Did I hear you correctly? Did you say they were twins?”