Tony was in a private asylum, where he could get the best care possible. Kate had psychiatrists flown in from Paris, Vienna and Berlin, but when all the examinations and tests had been completed, the diagnosis was the same: Her son was a homicidal schizophrenic and paranoiac.
“He doesn’t respond to drugs or psychiatric treatment, and he’s violent. We have to keep him under restraint.”
“What kind of restraint?” Kate asked.
“He’s in a padded cell. Most of the time we have to keep him in a straitjacket.”
“Is that necessary?”
“Without it, Mrs. Blackwell, he would kill anyone who got near him.”
She closed her eyes in pain. This was not her sweet, gentle Tony they were talking about. It was a stranger, someone possessed. She opened her eyes. “Is there nothing that can be done?”
“Not if we can’t reach his mind. We’re keeping him on drugs, but the moment they wear off, he gets manic again. We can’t continue this treatment indefinitely.”
Kate stood very straight. “What do you suggest, Doctor?”
“In similar cases, we’ve found that removing a small portion of the brain has produced remarkable results.”
Kate swallowed. “A lobotomy?”
“That is correct. Your son will still be able to function in every way, except that he will no longer have any strong dysfunctional emotions.”
Kate sat there, her mind and body chilled. Dr. Morris, a young doctor from the Menninger Clinic, broke the silence. “I know how difficult this must be for you, Mrs. Blackwell. If you’d like to think about—”
“If that’s the only thing that will stop his torment,” Kate said, “do it.”
Frederick Hoffman wanted his granddaughters. “I will take them back to Germany with me.”
It seemed to Kate that he had aged twenty years since Marianne’s death. Kate felt sorry for him, but she had no intention of giving up Tony’s children. “They need a woman’s care, Frederick. Marianne would have wanted them brought up here. You’ll come and visit them often.”
And he was finally persuaded.
The twins were moved into Kate’s home, and a nursery suite was set up for them. Kate interviewed governesses, and finally hired a young French woman named Solange Dunas.
Kate named the first-born Eve, and her twin, Alexandra. They were identical—impossible to tell apart. Seeing them together was like looking at an image in a mirror, and Kate marveled at the double miracle that her son and Marianne had created. They were both bright babies, quick and responsive, but even after a few weeks, Eve seemed more mature than Alexandra. Eve was the first to crawl and talk and walk. Alexandra followed quickly, but from the beginning it was Eve who was the leader. Alexandra adored her sister and tried to imitate everything she did. Kate spent as much time with her granddaughters as possible. They made her feel young. And Kate began to dream again. One day, when I’m old and ready to retire…
On the twins’ first birthday, Kate gave them a party. They each had an identical birthday cake, and there were dozens of presents from friends, company employees and the household staff. Their second birthday party seemed to follow almost immediately. Kate could not believe how rapidly the time went by and how quickly the twins were growing. She was able to discern even more clearly the differences in their personalities: Eve, the stronger, was more daring, Alexandra was softer, content to follow her sister’s lead. With no mother or father, Kate thought repeatedly, it’s a blessing that they have each other and love each other so much.
The night before their fifth birthday, Eve tried to murder Alexandra.
It is written in Genesis 25: 22-23:
And the children struggled together within her…
And the Lord said unto her, Two [nations] are in thy womb, and two manner of people shall be separated from thy bowels; and the one [people] shall be stronger than the other [people]; and the elder shall serve the younger.
In the case of Eve and Alexandra, Eve had no intention of serving her younger sister.
Eve had hated her sister for as long as she could remember. She went into a silent rage when someone picked up Alexandra, or petted her or gave her a present. Eve felt she was being cheated. She wanted it all for herself—all the love and the beautiful things that surrounded the two of them. She could not have even a birthday of her own. She hated Alexandra for looking like her, dressing like her, stealing the part of her grandmother’s love that belonged to her. Alexandra adored Eve, and Eve despised her for that. Alexandra was generous, eager to give up her toys and dolls, and that filled Eve with still more contempt. Eve shared nothing. What was hers belonged to her, but it was not enough. She wanted everything Alexandra had. At night, under the watchful eye of Solange Dunas, both girls would say their prayers aloud, but Eve always added a silent prayer begging God to strike Alexandra dead. When the prayer went unanswered, Eve decided she would have to take care of it herself. Their fifth birthday was only a few days away, and Eve could not bear the thought of sharing another party with Alexandra. They were her friends, and her gifts that her sister was stealing from her. She had to kill Alexandra soon.