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“I can’t believe we keep forgetting to check this stupid PO box,” I grumbled as I slammed the door of my Jeep. “I bet it's stuffed full of junk. We really should start the process of canceling Aunt EJ’s mail. Or at least forward it to the house.” I still didn’t know why she’d had this PO box, to begin with. My twin sister, Mae, closed the passenger door much more quietly, making me wonder if it’d even shut all the way. I knew better than to say anything to her, though. She was all meek and mild much of the time until it came to putting me in my place. But that was okay. I loved her anyway. If she didn’t stand up to me, who awould? “You didn’t have to tag along, but I’m glad you did.” I held open the door to the post office. “You know how I hate running errands alone.” “Me, too.” Mae opened the inner door to the mailbox area for me. “In other countries, having errand dates with your friends is customary. Going to all the boring, annoying places together, like the dry cleaners and post office. We could start a trend here in the States.” I paused with my key held out, about to put it in the slot. “That’s a great idea. You and I run around together a lot, but errands are seriously boring and kinda lonely unless you’re married and have a spouse to go with.” Mae held her hands out while I cleared the stuffed box, catching the random envelopes and magazines as they slid out. “Oh,” she murmured. “How sad. This letter is addressed to Aunt EJ.” “Someone still hasn’t heard she passed?” I peered down at the envelope. “Who do we know in Townsend, Tennessee?” I locked the box back up as Mae shook her head absently. “Looks like an elderly person. Look how shaky the lettering is.” It looked like chicken scratch, as Aunt EJ would say. “No idea.” She stuffed it in her purse, then we sorted through the rest of the mail quickly into the large garbage can, throwing out the catalogs, ads, and coupons. In the end, we took one copy of Southern Living and three letters from Tennessee, all in the same shaky handwriting, back to the Jeep. “Open it up,” I urged as I turned over the engine and cranked up the air conditioning. Southern California was no place to be living without A/C in July. “See if there’s a phone number. We can call to tell that person that EJ passed over two years ago.” As I pulled out onto the main road, Mae skimmed the letter. “It’s kind of hard to read, but it sounds like this woman knows…knew Aunt EJ very well. And she definitely doesn’t know she’s dead.” It still caused a pang in my chest to hear her say those words. And no doubt they were just as hard for her to say. It wasn’t like in the movies when someone died, and six months later, everything was sunshine and roses. Our aunt, Eliza Jane, had raised us from infancy after our parents died together in a car wreck. She was the only mother we’d ever known, and it hurt no less to lose her. “Any idea how we can get ahold of her besides writing a letter?” I asked and turned into our neighborhood, conveniently just down the road from the post office. Mae and I lived together in our Aunt EJ’s house, which she’d left to us. It’d worked out pretty well when Mae divorced her no-good, lazy, piece of total crap husband last year. She’d moved in with me, and her daughter went off to college at the University of Tennessee. We’d been together ever since, and it’d been nice to see Mae starting to come out of the shell her ex had stuffed her into. Humming low in her throat in response, she opened the other letters. “We need to read these more closely. There’s some bizarre stuff in here.” When she opened the last one, she chirped, a little noise she’d always made when happy. “A phone number!” I pulled into the driveway, and Mae stuck the letters back in her purse while we unloaded the car. “Did you get that gluten-free cookie mix for Harriet?” I asked as I grabbed the shopping bags. “I still say you could just order it online and have it shipped directly.” Scoffing, Mae grabbed the rest of the bags, her bangles clinking together as she walked around me and into the garage. “I like buying locally. Not from some conglomerate that can ship it for me.” I kicked the back of the Jeep shut and followed. “What kind of weird stuff is in the letters?” The neighbor’s white Pomeranian, Mayo, ran around the corner of our three-bedroom bungalow and darted toward my ankles, yipping at the top of his voice. I squealed and ran into the garage, screaming for Mae. “Get this rodent!” Mae rolled her eyes at me, set the bags down, and picked the vicious mutt up. “He likes to bark, but you know he doesn’t bite.” I didn’t care. Glaring at my sister, I backed into the house and slammed the door behind me. Animals were utterly unpredictable. They could do anything at any given time, not to mention the germs. Licking themselves, going to the bathroom in the house, and who knew what else? Hey, I didn’t discriminate against dogs. It wasn’t that Mayo was a dog; it was about him being an animal. I didn’t like any of the vile creatures. Mae came back a few minutes later with the bags. She set them down, and I started putting the paper products away while she pulled the letters back out. “This is nuts. Talking about magic and murder.” Her voice was incredulous, which was understandable if the letter seriously talked about magic. I mean, come on. Magic? Really? “If it’s an elderly person, maybe they’re not in their right mind?” I asked. We began putting groceries away, but Mae soon picked up the letters again. “Let me read this one to you,” she said. “My dearest Eliza Jane. It’s been too long since you last visited. Three years! If you don’t come soon, I’m going to die, and then how will you feel?” She blanched and glanced up at me. “Oof. Awkward.” “Very,” I muttered as I poured water to soak the berries. “Hang on. Who is this woman?” Mae skimmed the letter. “It says something about her health failing, and she doesn’t always feel like herself, then it’s signed, your loving mother, Susan.” I turned off the water and dried my hands as I slowly turned around to look at my sister. “What?” Eliza Jane’s mother, our grandmother, died before we were born. She’d told us that many times over the years when we’d asked. We had no family to speak of, save maybe some distant cousins none of us knew. We hadn’t even bothered doing one of those online DNA tests, though Mae kept saying she wanted to. She shuffled through the other two letters. “They’re all signed like that.” “Okay, let’s hear the rest of it.” I slid onto one of the stools at our kitchen island, the ones EJ had painstakingly picked out. We hated them, but neither of us could stand to get rid of them. “Okay, um. It says the magic of the mountains is gone and has been since EJ left. Yada, yada, please bring the girls to visit. They must be walking by now?” She raised her eyes to look at me, her right eye matching the blue of my left and my right eye matching the brown of her left. We were identical mirror twins. Identical in every way, except on the opposite side. The only difference was that I was born with a stork bite behind my right ear. She held the letters in her left hand, her dominant. That was one of the few ways we didn’t mirror. I was also a leftie. “Does this woman think we’re infants?” I asked. We’d looked just alike when we were babies and into our teens. Of course, like many parents of twins, Aunt EJ loved dressing us identically. When we’d gotten old enough to convince her to let us have our own looks, we’d started looking less alike and more like our natural selves. I put on a bit of weight in college while Mae stayed slim, even throughout her pregnancy, which I probably gave her crap about too often. I liked to keep my hair bright and colorful, and she tended toward not dyeing hers at all. My dear sister was all about living the crunchy life: natural fibers, organic food, and high-priced stuff. I was happy either way, so I let her have her way with the food choices. As long as I had access to ice water and Diet Dr. Pepper, I was happy. “Yeah, here she gives advice for what to add to our formula since we aren’t getting breast milk.” She sat the papers on the island and looked at me with her mouth hanging open. “She’s got to be having memory problems, but that doesn’t explain how she thinks she’s EJ’s mom?” “Let’s call the number,” I suggested. “Maybe we’ll get some answers.” She pulled my phone out of her purse—I loathed carrying a purse—and slid it over to me. “You call. I don’t want to talk to people.” Mae wasn’t a big fan of peopling. As a doula and nurse, I always had to people, so I didn’t mind so much. “Sure.” I typed in the number and waited until someone answered. “Hello, Susan Myers’s room.” The male voice was rich and cheerful. “Hello, um, I’m not sure where I’m calling,” I said tentatively, putting the phone on speaker. “I received a letter from Susan Myers for my aunt. Could I speak to Susan?” “Are you a relative?” he asked. “I don’t think so. She’d been writing letters to my aunt, but my aunt passed away over two years ago. Susan wrote a letter recently, and we just got it, but she says she’s my aunt’s mother. That can’t be, as my aunt told us her mother passed away many years ago.” “Hang on,” he said, not unpleasantly. I shrugged at Mae, who gave me a wonky look. The man came back a few moments later, after a sound of shuffling papers. “Are you Lela or Mae Myers?” Erm, how’d he know that? “Yes, I’m Lela Myers.” “Susan’s paperwork says she doesn’t want us to notify her next of kin before her passing, only after. But since you’ve called, I can tell you that her next of kin is her sister, Bertha, and she visits daily. She’s here now. Listed after her are Lela and Mae Myers. It does have an Eliza Jane Myers as deceased, but Susan’s memory has been especially bad the last six months or so, so she may not remember that.” “Bertha?” I mouthed silently at Mae. She shrugged. She’d never heard the name either. “Well, as you’re the next of kin, I can tell you, if you’d like to see your grandmother before the end, I’d suggest you come immediately. We don’t expect her to last the night.” “Oh,” I whispered. “Well, as I didn’t know Susan existed before today, I’m not sure I’ll be able to come all the way to Tennessee, but can I get an address just in case?” He rattled off the place, and it matched the address on the envelope. “Whispering Pines Nursing Home. We’re right down the road from the county hospital. Can’t miss us.” I thanked him and hung up. “A grandmother we never knew we had?” Mae asked. “When did our lives turn into a soap opera?” On the other hand, this sounded like the kind of adventure we needed to get into, especially the opposite-of-adventurous Mae. I searched my phone and held it out for her to see. “According to this, Townsend is close to the University of Tennessee. Maybe we should go find out about this person who says she’s our grandmother. We can visit Harry while we’re there.” Mae waved me off with one hand. “You’re talking crazy. We can’t take off and go to Tennessee. Not and get there before the woman passes away, at least.” She paused and blinked a couple of times. “Could we?” 2: Mae “Mae! You have got to calm down.” Lela had resorted to squishing my face between her hands, forcing me to make eye contact with her. I pushed her hands away. “How can I calm down? Are you kidding me right now? We’re about to land in Knoxville, Tennessee, to visit a supposed relative we’ve never met. We should’ve at least tried to get more information before jumping on a plane. This is nuts!” My voice reached a feverish pitch as the old man across the aisle glanced nervously my way. Poor guy probably hadn’t expected to be seated near a lunatic on a cross-country flight. My level-headed and usually-in-charge sister leveled a stare at me. “Listen. Let’s say, worst-case scenario, the hunt for this long-lost relative doesn’t pan out. We’ll just consider this a vacation. We’ll visit Harriet, and then we can head up to Gatlinburg. You know you want a candy-dipped apple.” Lela was right. Even with her freshly dyed purple hair, which I was adamantly against, she was still right. It’d be nice to see my Harry, and what’s the worst that could happen? Also, I was never going to turn down a candy-dipped apple. As a matter of fact, I could’ve devoured one at that very moment. My stomach growled, right on cue. As the plane began its descent into McGhee Tyson Airport, I grabbed my twin’s hand and squeezed it tight. Even though she’d convinced me to do something entirely out of the norm, she was still my solid rock. As children, Lela was always the adventurous one. I could still picture her excited grin as she jumped from the roof of Aunt EJ’s tan Buick. She’d convinced herself that she could fly and had been dead set on proving me, the voice of reason, wrong. A pair of badly skinned knees and a broken arm later, Lela’d begun to plan out her next big stunt as I’d tried nervously to persuade her to sit calmly and read a book. And I couldn’t forget the time Lela snuck out of her bedroom window because she’d heard there would be some type of star alignment that would undoubtedly result in alien contact. That dummy had shimmied down the drainage pipe, hopped on her bike, and pedaled to the next town over. Needless to say, Aunt EJ hadn’t been too happy picking Lela up after a call from the police in the middle of the night. Lela hadn’t spotted any alien life forces that night, but she’d managed to meet a homeless guy who’d called his paper box house a spaceship. Despite many adventures and decisions that had run amok throughout our lives, Lela had somehow convinced me to bust out of my comfort zone. As the sensible, Type A sister, I wasn’t necessarily looking for an adventure. Ever. I preferred a quiet night at home, curled up next to my potted monstera, reading a cozy mystery. “Harriet will be so happy to see you. After all, it’s been a few months, right?” Lela snapped me out of my deep thoughts. Actually, it’d been seventy-two days. But who’s counting? In all honesty, it’d been tough to send my eighteen-year-old daughter off to college in a different time zone last year. Harriet had always said that she wanted to become an elementary school teacher and insisted she would attend the University of Tennessee. She’d completed her freshman year with flying colors and had wanted to take a few summer classes to get ahead of the system. How could I say no when Harriet’s time away from home had been a positive experience? Too bad for me, it’d been torturous. Now, don’t get me wrong. It’d been freeing not to have to worry about Harriet’s meals, laundry, and daily schedule. Suddenly, though, I found myself without purpose. My daughter wasn’t the only one in the family who had been focused on higher education. I’d always loved and respected plants and earned my bachelor’s degree in botany shortly after marrying my husband, Peter. The future had seemed bright until I became pregnant with Harriet. Peter insisted that I become a stay-at-home mom. “How can our daughter be well-rounded if she grows up in a daycare?” I hadn’t been able to come up with a strong argument. As usual, I’d given in to my husband’s requests. And just like that, my life had become a mundane routine of ensuring everyone else was taken care of. I’d watched as Lela followed her dream of becoming a doula. Her carefree attitude towards life led her to many escapades. Not to mention, she literally helped bring new life into this world. How cool is that? Me? I got my kicks purchasing new house plants that were suggested on my local social media plant pages. Peter had always expected perfection. And while preparing for Harriet to move out, I’d realized that I couldn’t continue that life. The one where I had to stay at home cooking, cleaning, and making everything perfect for a man who’d barely glanced my way as we passed like ships in the night. Right before we’d sent Harriet off to school, Peter and I had sat her down for a serious talk. We’d told her that we would be divorcing and that I would be moving in with her Aunt Lela. She’d taken the news surprisingly well and had even admitted to me later that she was happy I’d chosen myself for once. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve landed safely in beautiful Knoxville, Tennessee, with a landing time of three-oh-five in the pm. The temperature is a humid ninety-two degrees with partly cloudy skies. We hope you have enjoyed your flight today, and we’ll see you next time!” The pilot’s voice interrupted my contemplation. “Come on, Mae. Let’s grab our bags and be ready. I’m ready to get off this plane. My legs are stiff as boards!” The flight to Atlanta had been on a nice, roomy plane. This one, while not a puddle jumper, was definitely cramped. I felt bad for the tall, anxious man across the aisle from us. He’d been sitting with his legs half out in the aisle. As I stood to grab my purple carry-on, I lost my balance, teetering backward. “Whoa! Excuse me, sir!” I had almost fallen right into the lap of Mr. Nervous Nelly with the long legs. That would’ve been the cherry on top of his exciting flight. Lela grabbed my arm. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I think so. I just feel a little dizzy.” My brain was on a roller coaster, and my stomach was along for the ride. And I didn’t care for any of it. Lela stopped in her tracks as the color drained from her face. She covered her mouth and closed her eyes. She was feeling as sick as I did. I pushed her off the plane and down the ramp. “Hurry,” I urged under my breath. “I can’t go any faster than the people in front of me.” Her voice, low and severe, sounded as unsteady as I felt. But even as we stepped off the ramp, the feeling subsided and she seemed to have recovered as well by the time we made it inside the airport. “I thought I was going to barf all over the stewardess. Would’ve served her right - charging me for that drink.” “Do you think we have food poisoning? From the in-flight meal?” I asked with genuine concern. “Oh, you mean the greasy fish filet and questionably gray potatoes? Nah!” Lela laughed. At least she had her wits about her. My phone began to buzz. I pulled it out excitedly, knowing exactly who it had to be. The only other person who we’d told we were leaving. “It’s Harriet!” Hey, Mom. I saw on the app that your plane had landed. I hope you and Aunt Lela had a nice flight. I can’t wait to see you! Let me know when you guys want to come over so I can have the dorm somewhat cleaned up. Sweet Harriet. She had no idea what her mom and aunt were up to. I had no plans to tell her about this potential long-lost relative until I had some solid answers. The airport began to spin as I looked down to drop my phone into my leather fringed purse. This time, I had no control over it and fell smack to the ground. Literally fell in front of other humans. What was wrong with me? It took me a minute to regain my composure. During that time, not only had Lela squatted next to me, concerned, but I also had the pleasure of meeting a few flight attendants and a handsome pilot who just happened to be walking towards his next gate. Lovely. “Thanks, everyone. I just had a little dizzy spell, that’s all.” They all helped me up at once, which was extremely awkward. “Hey, I’m forty-two, not eighty-two. I think I’ve got this.” With my pride injured, I grabbed my carry-on and began walking, putting as much distance between me and the looky-loos as possible. “Mae, wait up! I think I need to make a pit stop. My stomach is rolling. I’m afraid there’s about to be a code brown situation.” Great. I was falling out in the middle of the airport, and Lela was about to take a big ol’ dump in her pants. This trip was going beautifully. In the bathroom, Lela ran to the first available stall. I tried not to listen to the mayhem occurring behind door number three as I pulled my long hair into a top bun. Turning the cold water on, I cupped my hands together and filled them to the brim. Splashing my face seemed to help with the lightheaded sensation that was trying to overtake my body and send me back to the floor. With my eyes closed, I reached under the flow of the tap, but. What the heck? There was no water. It must’ve timed out. I hit the knob on the faucet, and the water began to flow again. As I put my palms under the water, it moved to the left of my hands. I shifted to the left, and the water had the audacity to move to the right! “What in the actual tartar sauce is going on here?” I screeched, overwhelmed. Lela escaped her throne, and eyed me suspiciously. “You all right?” “Yeah, I apparently chose the one malfunctioning faucet. Wash your hands and let’s go.” We were almost out of the airport, and I was looking forward to some fresh air. Breathing recycled ventilation on a plane always grossed me out. And now, with this strange buzzing in my head, I craved that mountain air I’d heard so much about from Harriet. We spotted a beautiful water fountain walking down the final ramp. It was adorned with river rock and surrounded by carved wooden bears. The sound of the trickling water immediately brought a sense of calm to my racing brain. All of a sudden, movement out of the corner of my eye drew my attention. The water seemed to be reaching up out of the fountain and coming straight for me. “Stop!” I yelled much louder than I’d intended and held my hands up as the water collapsed all over Lela and me. We stood there in shock, dripping wet. Our suitcases lay on their sides in huge puddles of water. The people passing by stood back, gaping at us in horror. Security and airport management came running to our side from all directions. They immediately demanded an explanation, talking over one another and trying to get a straight answer from us or each other. Nobody knew what had happened. Heck, I didn’t even have a clue. All I could do was point toward the fountain. They followed the trail of water, and someone suggested that the motor within the fountain must have malfunctioned. A kind, frazzled-looking man handed us a couple of gift shop certificates. “Here you go, ladies. I do apologize for the inconvenience. At least it’s just water, right?” With a nervous chuckle, the manager pointed us toward the gift shop, where we became the proud new owners of Great Smoky Mountains National Park t-shirts, each with a large black bear adorning the center. In the safety of a family-style bathroom, we could finally speak candidly. “Lela, that water was reaching out for me. I’m not kidding you. It’s almost as if it had a mind of its own. Am I going crazy? What is happening?” I began questioning my sister as I wrung the water out of my ankle-length skirt. “I think the food poisoning is going to our heads.” Lela glanced at her watch. “It’s already three forty-five. We need to get to the nursing home before visiting hours are over. Here.” She handed me a handful of brown paper towels from the dispenser. We changed out of our wet clothes and dried off as best we could. After gathering our soaked belongings, we headed to the rental car kiosk and then left for the nursing home. Time to find out what all this commotion was all about.