Duplicate Daughter. Alice Sharpe
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stepped outside, shivering, hugging herself. “The second window on the right,” she said through chattering teeth. The covered porch stopped shy of the window a foot or so and they stood at the edge, looking down into the snow below the window, searching for some sign a man had walked to the window, had stood below it and looked inside.
There was nothing to be seen, however. The area was littered with rocks and the branches of dormant plants that formed natural pockets and rifts. If someone had created footprints that evening, it was already too late to tell.
Nick peered through the snow. From what he could see, everything looked about the same as usual.
“Are you sure you saw someone?” he said.
She looked up at him, preoccupied. “I thought I did. Maybe the storm spooked me.”
“Let’s go back inside.”
He closed the door behind them, securing it once again with the chain. Katie immediately moved toward the fire, standing as close to the blaze as she could.
Nick didn’t know what to make of Katie’s story. The nearest neighbor was over a mile away and they were off in Florida for the winter. It was another mile to the Booths’ place and then another half mile to the Stewart cabin.
Katie struck him as a woman with a very active imagination. He could see no covert reason for her to make up such a story, so undoubtedly she’d seen something, just not a man. Snow, a branch blowing by, a shadow. Trying to get things back on an even keel, he said, “Tell me a little more about you and your sister and why you’re so sure there’s a problem with your mother and my father.”
She moved back to her chair, settling herself on the edge of the cushion, hands folded in her lap. “As you know, my mother married your father after knowing him only three weeks. My sister assures me this was very out of character for her. Was it out of character for him, too?”
“How would I know?”
“Nick, please, try.”
“Let me give you a little background,” he said warily. “My very young mother married an alcoholic. She stuck with him for several years until she developed breast cancer. He took off like a shot never to be seen again, well at least not for umpteen years. Mom got better, married the shoe salesman, raised me. Let’s see. I went into the Army. Fought in the Gulf War. Came home, stepdad died. I married Patricia, moved to Alaska, had Lily. Dad came for a heartwarming reunion, I turned him away, Patricia welcomed him with open arms. She died, he took off again—noticing a pattern?”
“So if something has happened to my mother—”
“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