Duplicate Daughter

“He probably ran out and left her high-and-dry. Like I said, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

He was immediately sorry he said it. Katie’s pretty face literally collapsed as tears rolled down her cheeks. He stared into her huge blurry eyes for a second, not sure what to do, hoping she’d pull herself together, but if anything, the tears got worse. He got up from his chair and handed her the tissue box. Within a few moments, Katie dabbed at her eyes and took a few deep breaths. He poured them both a stiff brandy, handed her a snifter and sat back down, twirling the amber liquid in his glass, wishing he could float away on its fumes.

“Listen, Katie, I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I haven’t been very tactful. I’m rusty, I guess. Until tonight, Helen pretty much took care of herself, and Lily is still in the kiss-it-and-make-it-better stage. Everything just seems to be suddenly falling apart.”

“And you blame me,” she said.

True, but this time he stayed quiet.

Katie took a sip of the liquor and set the glass on the hearth. “You have to know something about him that will help,” she persisted. “Something. If you don’t, I have no place to start. I have nothing to take back to Tess. We’ll never know why our parents separated us, why they lied to us. My sister was shot a couple of weeks ago trying to help me clear our father’s name. It’s my fault she’s lying in a hospital. Her mother—our mother—is missing, last seen with your father. I just need to know if there’s anything in his past that would put my mother in jeopardy. For instance, when did he change his name to Swope? Why?”

“I don’t know, Katie. He was using his real name when he was here,” Nick said. “He said he was on an extended vacation. He seemed a little nervous. I told him to get lost, but Patricia fell for his story. He was reformed, he claimed. No more drinking. No more shenanigans. All he wanted was to get to know his long-lost son. Me. And Patricia and Lily, of course. Patricia’s mother had died the year before and she was anxious for more family. She invited him to stay in one of the guest cottages. He moved right in and made himself at home.”

“How did you handle it?”

“I ignored him most of the time. It was summer and we had a bunch of people here. I was in and out. Busy.”

“Your wife taught art during the summers?”

“Patricia? No. Patricia didn’t teach art. We bought the place because I’m a pilot. The people who come here during the summer come because of me. I fly them over wilderness areas and they shoot wildlife. Photo shoot, I mean. Patricia’s art was personal, not commercial. She wouldn’t sell any of her work.”

“They’re all over your walls, aren’t they?”

He looked around him. “Yes.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“She was good. Now the paintings belong to Lily. Anyway, that summer after Lily was born, Patricia discovered gardening. She grew cabbages big as a barbeque, broccoli, carrots—this area of Alaska has long, cool summer days, up to twenty hours long, perfect for certain vegetables. Patricia was dedicated to gardening. She could dig in the dirt forever, Lily napping nearby on a blanket. She hummed when she gardened. Off-key.”

He sighed deeply before adding, “I was away much of the time my father was here. He started helping Patricia with Lily—Helen only worked a few hours a day helping out with the daily cabin cleanings and things like that back then. Patricia got to depending on my father. I even started to think he might have changed.”

He chanced a look at Katie. She regarded him closely, her blue eyes sparkling with reflections of the lanterns around her. She said, “What happened, Nick?”

He shrugged. His throat closed for a second and he stared into the fire. Could he see this through?

He said, “Patricia was walking down Frostbite’s main street with my father one afternoon. A car went out of control right in front of the grocery store. Patricia was seriously injured. Dad walked away without a scratch. The driver of the car recovered and took off like a shot. Thank goodness Lily was here with Helen and not in her mother’s arms. Patricia died twelve hours later without ever regaining consciousness.”

“So you blame your father for living through the accident?” she murmured.

He cut her a quick look. “Of course not. I blame my father for leaving town while my wife was still lying on the pavement. I blame him for leaving her alone to die.”

She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes and he used the act of tending the fire to regain his composure.

“So, next thing I know I get a wedding invitation from your mother,” he said, turning back to face her. “Helen tried to hide it from me, but I found it anyway. A few weeks after that, your sister sent me a picture of the happy couple.”

She sat forward eagerly. “Do you still have it? I haven’t seen her—”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I tore it in half the minute I realized what it was.”

“And now he’s changed his name and gotten another woman to believe in him,” Katie said, coming to stand beside Nick as he replaced the poker.

The firelight shimmering in her red hair made it glow like rubies. Her skin was white and soft looking, her eyes big and blue. A tingling sensation ran through Nick’s hands. It had been over two years since he’d touched a woman’s face, since he’d come close to even thinking about touching a woman’s face. The urge to do so now was almost unbearable.

But why this woman?

He said, “Why do you limp?”

“I was in a hit-and-run accident. It had to do with my trying to figure out what happened to my father.”

“And did you figure it out?”

She rolled her head a little as though her neck hurt. “No, my sister figured it out for me. She came from out of the blue and probably saved my life.”

“Does your neck hurt?”

“Yes. Another leftover from the accident.”

He gently turned her around until her back was to him and began rubbing her shoulders with strong hands.

“That feels wonderful,” she whispered.

He realized at once he’d attempted to satisfy his desire to touch her by approaching her in this no-nonsense, impersonal manner. Lots of layers of clothes under his fingers, no eye contact. He said, “What do you mean when you say your sister came from out of the blue?” But, dear God, her hair was soft as it brushed against the back of his hands. And the supple warmth of her neck.

“I’m warning you, it’s a soap opera,” she said softly, leaning into his hands.

“Try me.”

“Okay, but like I said, it’s a soap opera. My parents divorced when Tess and I were barely six months old. Mom took Tess. Dad took me. Neither told us we even had an identical twin sister only a day or two days’ drive away. We didn’t even know we had another parent. Dad told me my mother died giving birth and Mom told Tess she’d never even known Tess’s father’s last name. Then my father, a cop, died in a fire he was blamed for starting. I had to vindicate him. I found a letter from my dad telling me about my sister’s existence. When I was hurt, she was contacted. She found me in a coma and took up my investigation. Now she’s been shot and she’s in the hospital and we’ve only really known each other for a few days.”

“She helped you with your father and now you’re determined to help her with her mother.”

“Our father, our mother. My sister, myself. Yes.”

He stopped massaging her neck and turned her back around to face him. Again, the urges, but this time it went beyond touching. This time he wanted to kiss her.

This is why he’d been annoyed with her from the moment he set eyes on her at the airport. He was afraid of her and not just because she threatened to bring the past crashing down on his home, but also because she’d so effortlessly cracked open doors long ago slammed shut.

“I have a feeling,” she said softly, and it was all he could do to take his gaze from her lips.

He said, “Yes?”

“I have a feeling that your father’s past is catching up with him and that my mother is in the way.”

He caught his hands sliding down her arms and let go of her. She didn’t seem to notice. He said, “You may be right.”

“I’m sorry I came here. I should have kept nagging the Washington police. I’ll go home as soon as I figure out how to get back to Anchorage.”

“I’ll fly you back,” he said, still under her spell, wishing things were different, wishing he could ask her to stay, to forget about her mother and his father, just stay for a while and…