If you read Ace-High Royal Flush, you may have noticed Jefferson referred to Quinn’s twins as Clayton and Porter. This scene, as it’s titled, gives an explanation as to why.
March 19, 2006 was a nice Sunday, with fairly decent weather, which was good, since it was my twins’ first birthday and the entire family was gathered at Shadow Brook, the family farm in Maryland, to celebrate not only their birthday but Joe’s as well.
My uncles had gone out riding, taking Joe with them, since the boy had proved to be a capable rider, unlike Mark, who rode because I asked him to. Joe was on the Welsh pony Mother and Gregor had given him for his birthday.
Destiny and Alexander were too young to ride, although if the weather had been warmer, we’d have taken them up in front of us. However, in a year or so, they’d have ponies of their own.
Just now, we had a birthday party to put together. Gregor was setting the table in the dining room, while Ludo was blowing up balloons and hanging them from crepe paper streamers. Mrs. Plum and her husband were busy in the kitchen seeing to the cake and beverages.
Andrea, Gregor’s niece who was working as our nanny while she continued working for her college degree in DC, had put the twins down for their naps. Later she would change them into the birthday outfits Tony and Bryan had brought them from California.
Mother and I were in the study putting photographs of the children into albums for Tony and Bryan, Jefferson and Ludovic, Mother and Gregor. The picture I held now was of Mark with Xander in one arm, his other around Joe, who held Destiny.
Mark came into the room, cradling Desdemona, the kitten we’d given Gregor for Father’s Day last year. Miss Priss, Mother’s kitten, was stropping herself against Mark’s legs. Fe, the cat Joe had chosen from the Humane Society at the same time we’d found Desdemona, drowsed in front of the fireplace.
Mark had been nonplussed when Joe told him the name he’d given his cat: FeSO4. “It’s due to her eyes, Dad.” They were blue-green.
“Sounds good,” he’d said, although afterward he’d shaken his head and muttered something about only a genius kid would name his cat after ferrous sulfate.
Our son was beyond genius level. Both Mark and I had fairly high IQs, but Joe’s was off the charts, thanks, no doubt to the woman who’d used her eggs for the experiments that resulted in not only Joe but the twins as well. It was going to be interesting to see where they ranged on the scale.
I smiled up at Mark. “I think I’ll have this picture resized to wallet size so I can carry it with me.”
“Yeah.” But he seemed distracted. “Quinn, what’s with your uncle?”
“Which one?”
“Jefferson.”
“Is something wrong with him?” Jefferson was in his early eighties, and while my uncles all were aging well, they were aging.
“If there isn’t, maybe you can explain why he’s been calling the twins Clayton and Porter. Even Joe’s noticed it.”
“Hmm.” He’d always been the most freewheeling of my uncles, so it was surprising to see how he’d taken to the children. However, I’d never heard him call them by anything other than their names. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that. Suppose I ask Mother?”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
I turned to Mother, who’d been listening with interest. “Mother?”
“Yes, Quinton?” She swallowed a smile.
“Why does Jefferson persist in calling the twins Clayton and Porter?”
She gazed from one to the other of us. “This goes no further, agreed?”
“Of course,” I assured her. Mark simply crossed his heart.
“Very well. During his years at Exeter, Jefferson became friendly with a pair of twins from Quincy, Massachusetts—Clayton and Porter Lange. Their parents emigrated from Germany around the same time the Nazis rose to power.”
“Is that where Jefferson learned to speak German.”
“Yes. The three of them became as close as brothers, so close the principal became concerned. Apparently he wrote to your grandfather about it. I’m not sure how your grandmother learned of this, but of course she did.” Mother looked a little sad. “I wish your uncles and I hadn’t been so much our father’s children. She deserved better than that.”
I moved aside the album between us on the loveseat, shifted closer to her, and put an arm around her shoulders. Mark stooped and set Desdemona on her feet, then sat on Mother’s other side and slid his arm around both of us.
“How did you find out about this?” Knowing my grandparents, this wasn’t something they would have been likely to share with the family.
“Your grandmother corresponded with Lady Portia for years, and when I was going through the letters after Lady Portia’s death, I came across the letters that addressed it.” Mother sighed and rested her head on my shoulder. “At any rate, Father pulled some strings and had the twins expelled.”
“If it was me, I’d have found a way to stay in touch, if only to spite the old—” Mark cleared his throat. “Your father.”
Mother patted his knee. “Of course Jefferson did. And once they all turned eighteen, they met at a local recruiter and volunteered for the Army. Father was furious Jefferson didn’t chose the Navy as Tony did, but there was nothing he could do, so he made the best of it. And of course you know your uncle was wounded on D-Day.”
“What happened to the twins?”
“They never made it off the beach.”
“Jefferson never spoke about the invasion.”
“No. I think it broke something inside him.”
Occasionally Jefferson would tell me tales of his time in Europe, but it was after the War, after he’d been transferred to intelligence. He’d made it seem like one grand adventure.
“I never mentioned this, because it had seemed inconsequential at the time, but when your father and I were expecting you, he asked us to consider those names for you, even using Porter if you turned out to be a girl. But after one look, your father and I both knew you were a Quinton.” Mother sighed again. “I’m inclined to believe your uncle calling Alexander and Destiny after those friends of his youth is a way of bringing them close.”
We were silent for a moment. Having grown up with Ludovic as Jefferson’s partner, I had no doubt Ludo was my uncle’s one, but if the trio had been left alone, would that have been their future? Would Jefferson even have gone into intelligence?
Mark stood and dusted his hands briskly. “Well, as long as your uncle isn’t losing his marbles, I’ve got no objection to his calling the twins Clayton and Porter once in a while. I’m gonna go see if Mrs. Plum can use any help.” He walked out.
“You married a good man, Quinton.”
“Thank you, Mother. I think so too.”
And we sat there in silence until it was time to join the others for the party.
