by Kylie Walker
She turned away from him and looked out the window. With her back to him, she said, “You just slept with me because I look like your late wife and you don’t even know what color my eyes are.”
“I see the blue, Chloe. I’m just looking for explanations, I guess. I’m really just trying to put this all together in my head. It was strange enough that you looked like her twin, but now I know you were born on the same day too. It just seems like too much to be a coincidence.”
“Or maybe you’re just trying to take the focus off the fact that you went seeking out a woman who looks identical to your supposedly dead wife.”
“She’s not “supposedly” dead. She’s dead. I killed her.”
Chloe felt another wave of nausea rip through her, but she quelled it. When she was able to speak, she said, “You killed her?”
Derek leaned his head forward and ran his hands roughly through his hair. Chloe looked at his hands and remembered how they had touched her last night. Now they were shaking. It would be almost impossible for her to reconcile that with a man who had killed his wife.
He looked up at her at last and said, “We were in the car, driving home from a fund raiser. My phone slid off the console and onto the floor down by my feet. I should have left it there, but I didn’t.”
His voice sounded like it was choking back sobs and the look on his face was raw anguish, and in spite of herself, Chloe felt her heart going out to him. “I bent down to pick it up, and a car crossed the center divider at the same time. He hit us head on. Sarah died instantly.”
Chloe started to speak and found that there was a lump in her throat and that strange feeling of grief was still piercing her chest.
She cleared her throat and said, “Why was the other car there?”
Derek’s watery eyes found hers, and he said, “The driver was drunk. His blood alcohol was three times the legal limits. He bounced off the dash and walked away without a scratch.”
“It doesn’t sound to me like you killed her.” She didn’t know if she welcomed the relief that washed over her or not. That, coupled with the sympathy she felt for him made it more difficult to stay wary of his intentions.
“If I had been paying attention, maybe I could have swerved out of the way,” he said. He had obviously replayed it over in his head countless of times.
“How long ago did this happen?” she asked.
“Two years. She was twenty-two when she died.”
Two years and he was still grieving. Unless he was an academy award winning actor, the pain that showed in his eyes and across his face was real and still as fresh as ever. Chloe walked towards the window. Derek’s eyes were suddenly back on her. She could see the worried look out of the corner of her eye. He looked like he was afraid that she would take off. She wanted to, but before she did that, she needed some answers.
“I still don’t understand why I look so much like her.”
Derek looked like he wasn’t sure if he should tell her what he was thinking or not. He finally said, “Sarah was born a twin.”
Chloe felt her heart lurch in her chest.
He went on, “The twin died at birth according to her parents.”
“Maybe they gave her away,” Chloe retorted. She felt anger towards these people that she didn’t know. She felt anger towards Derek. At the same time though, she felt compassion for him and grief for the girl who died. The conflicting emotions were all battling in her head for top spot and leaving her exhausted and with an incessant throbbing in her temples.
“No. There’s no way they would have done that. They still grieve for her.”
“Then I can’t be her. There has to be another explanation.”
Chloe felt disappointment now. That didn’t make any sense to her. Why would she be disappointed that she wasn’t related to people who chose to throw her away?
“The resemblance alone is more than remarkable, Chloe. But, when you put that together with the birthdate and the fact that you were adopted. You don’t have brown eyes, do you, Chloe?”
“You’re going back to that again?”
“When they get watery, I can see a brown rim around the outside of the blue, and I’m really just trying to wrap my head around this.”
“They’re brown, okay. I wear contacts.” She didn’t know why she admitted that other than she wanted some answers to and she wanted them now. She knew that she looked even more like that photo than she did. Or at least Kelly Ward did.
“Why?”
“Why what? Why do I wear contacts? Lots of people wear contact lenses. I make my living on my looks. I do things to enhance my appearance.”
“It’s hard to imagine that your appearance needed enhancing. I can’t understand why a beautiful woman would try so hard to change her appearance.”
“As I said, lots of people do it. There’s nothing strange or sinister about it.”
He was dwelling too much on that. Next, he would be asking her if she was in hiding. She wasn’t ready for him to be that close. She doubted that she would ever be ready for that, with anyone.
He seemed to let that go for now, but then he said, “Maybe we should go talk to Sarah’s parents. Maybe they can help us figure this out.”
“No!”
“Chloe listen to me. If these are your parents, don’t you want to know?”
“No! If they’re my parents, then they’re just like everyone else that I’ve ever trusted. If they’re my parents, they went through a great deal of trouble to get rid of me. I doubt they would be happy to have me show up on their doorstep.”
“They’re not like that, Chloe. These are good, decent people. They loved their daughters, both of them. They still care for me, after everything that happened they treat me like a son. Someone led them to believe that one of their children was dead…they have grieved her for over twenty-four years. Then, they lost the only surviving one as well. They would be so happy.”
“No! Promise me that you’re not going to say anything to them. I need to figure this out on my own.”
He stood up then and started towards her. She moved away, making herself as small as she could against the wall. It was a tactic that she used with Jesse. It was instinctual. She felt threatened again. It wasn’t a physical threat that she felt from Derek…but it was a threat, nonetheless.
He stopped moving when he saw her clutch the wall. He lowered his voice so that it was almost a whisper and he said, “I would never hurt you, Chloe. I want to help. You don’t have to do everything alone.”
“What’s their name?” she said.
“Trevor and Samantha Whitemore.” He said. “They live in New York. We could go there together.”
“No! I’m not going there. Please, Derek, promise me that you’ll let me sort this out. I at least need a few days to let this absorb. It’s too much! I’m not going to make any rash decisions based on speculation and coincidence. I don’t operate that way. I need you to promise me that you won’t say anything to them.”
Derek looked reluctant, to say the least. But at last, he said, “I promise you, Chloe. I won’t tell them…for now. But I’m going to try and figure this out too, on my end. These people mean a great deal to me. If their daughter is still alive, they deserve to know. I also hope that you’ll let me help you. Please, don’t shut me out.”
Chloe didn’t say anything to that. Instead, she said, “Will you take me home?”
CHAPTER THREE
Derek pulled up in front of Chloe’s condo. She hadn’t said a word the entire ride. She stared out the window and kept her body as far away from his as possible. Even if he hadn’t seen her scars last night, he would have known that she was wounded. Now that he had seen them, he wanted to track down whoever or whatever had done that to her and kill them with his bare hands. As soon as they drove up, she grabbed for the door handle with a look of relief on her face. He hated that she was so wary of him. Last night he seemed to make strides, breaking down the walls she had so carefully constructed. This mo
rning they were back up, and they were thicker than ever.
“Will you call me?” he asked her.
She was already out of the car. “Probably not,” she said before closing the door. He sat there and watched her go inside, fighting the urge to go after her. She was so skittish right now though, and he knew that would only further alienate her. He finally put the little sports car in gear and headed for the Interstate. He needed to talk to his in-laws. He briefly considered taking the helicopter, but he quickly realized that he needed some time himself to get his thoughts in order. He promised Chloe he wouldn’t say anything about her and he intended to keep that promise. So, he needed to find a way to ask questions without including her in the reason why.
As Derek drove he replayed what he knew about Sarah’s parents and her twin through his head. His thoughts went back to his first meeting with them. Trevor owned a real estate firm in Manhattan. He dealt in high end real estate and Derek had a client he had sold business property to who was looking to re-locate from Rhode Island to Manhattan. The client had very detailed ideas about what he was looking for and very specific tastes. He’d had a falling out with more than one agent in New York and couldn’t seem to find one that was willing to go the extra mile for him the way that Derek was with his business investments. He was Derek’s most lucrative client at the time and in order to foster a closer business relationship, Derek had taken on the task himself of finding the best real estate agent in New York to work with him. The client had very detailed ideas about what he was looking for and very specific tastes.
Derek had hired people to gather detailed data on every real estate firm in the city. Once he had that information, he had them gather specific data on every executive with the firms that had come in first. What he was left with in the end was the name of someone who for whatever reason didn’t ring any bells on the social end of the spectrum…but on the real estate end, Derek couldn’t find a single dissatisfied client or a single hint of a shady deal anywhere in the man’s thirty year history of being licensed in the state. The man’s name was Trevor Whitemore, and Derek arranged a dinner meeting with him and his wife who was his business partner.
They had met him at a posh upscale restaurant in Manhattan and almost as soon as they said hello, Derek had a good feeling about them. He was a tall, powerful looking man with dark brown hair with flecks of gray at the sides. His eyes were dark brown, and there was something warm and welcoming about them. He was fifty-five at the time, but if you colored the gray hair, you would be left with a man who looked like a forty year old in excellent shape. Something about him exuded competence while at the same time exuding warmth and fostering a sense of trust with just a simple look.
Mrs. Whitemore was a petite woman who also looked much younger than her fifty-three years. Her hair was a pretty golden blonde color, and it framed her petite face. Her eyes were the color of milk chocolate and framed by the longest eyelashes that Derek had ever seen. She wore very little make-up, and if he had to guess, he would say that her youthfulness was natural and didn’t come about at the hands of a surgeon or a needle as many women he met in his business had found theirs.
They both exuded a sense of class and dignity but yet there were no airs about either one. They still held hands, and she laughed at her husband’s lame jokes. Derek found himself enchanted by them and guiltily, wishing that he had parents like them instead of the social ladder climbing ones that he’d drawn. Derek didn’t have many issues with his parents and he more than appreciated everything they had done for him. But Derek had always found himself longing for something more real. That’s what attracted him to these people the most.
He had explained to Trevor what he was looking for and by the end of the evening; he had set up a meeting between him and his client. Derek agreed to attend the first meeting, and if all went well, he would bow out from there. That was the first time he had walked into Trevor and Samantha’s offices. They were located in the heart of the business district in Manhattan, but when you walked in off the busy street, it was like time stopped. The waiting room wasn’t decorated with modern designer fabrics and colors like every other one in the city. This one made you feel like you were walking into someone’s living room. They served you sweet tea, and what tasted like homemade cookies and when they called you back, you were so comfortable that you didn’t want to leave.
Derek and his client Todd were led back to Trevor’s office by his receptionist. She was a red-headed young lady with legs that went on for miles, and as they walked down the quaintly decorated hallway, Derek found himself admiring them. He had barely glanced up as they came to the end of the hall and noticed the petite blonde coming out of Trevor’s office.
Derek heard her say, “Thank you, Daddy. I’ll call you when I get there.”
The sound of her voice was sweet, and that was what first drew his attention, but once his eyes found hers, he saw something in those beautiful brown eyes that exuded safety and warmth. In just that one look he felt like he was “home.” The woman passed them, and she smiled. Derek lost all train of thought after that. He had to force himself to focus during their meeting, and when it was over, he couldn’t bring himself to leave until he knew who she was.
He had asked Trevor. “Was that your daughter we saw leaving earlier?”
Trevor’s face lit up the room when he said, “Yes, that’s our Sarah.”
“She’s a beautiful young lady,” Derek told him. “Does she work here?”
“No, Sarah didn’t develop the interest in real estate that her mother and I did. She’s a student at Rhode Island School of Design. She’s fine arts major. Sarah’s an artist and a very talented one.”
Derek wasn’t superstitious, but something told him that day that it was fate. It was fate that he had met the Whitemore’s and fate that led him to the office on the day Sarah was in town and fate that she currently lived in the same city that he held an office in. He had lodged an all-out pursuit of the beautiful young woman, and within six months they were engaged, and they were married the following year.
Derek loved his life with Sarah and the night she died he thought that nothing could ever repair the damage done to his heart and soul. It was like a piece of him would be eternally missing. He had gone through the motions of life over the next two years because he didn’t really have any other choice but his outlook on life had become monochromatic, and the only time he saw anything in vivid color any longer was when he spent time with the people who had loved her as much as he did until the day he met Chloe. He believed that fate had led him to her as well and he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight.
Trevor and Samantha lived in a two-story five-thousand square foot Saxon style home in Albany adjacent to Saratoga Lake. It was a beautiful home set on expansive grounds, but yet the home, like the Whitemore’s was very unassuming.
Instead, it conveyed a feeling of comfort and warmth and made Derek feel at peace in his heart just by walking through the door.
Derek pulled into the circular cobblestone drive and sat there for a few moments trying to figure out what the best way to approach this would be. They were going to wonder why he was asking so many questions about something that happened long before he had entered their lives. He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up to the photo he carried there of Sarah. Running a finger along the smooth line of her pretty cheek he said, “Wish me luck, my love.”
“Derek, are you coming in?” Trevor was at the door now, undoubtedly wondering what his son-in-law was doing sitting in the car in the driveway. Derek took a deep breath and stepped out. Trevor greeted him with a hug and a hearty clap on the back as always, but the older man’s smile faded as he looked at Derek’s face.
“Are you okay son? Come in and tell me what’s troubling you.”
Derek followed Trevor into the living room. It always reminded him of something you would see in the country or maybe a cottage in Nantucket. He loved it he
re. Samantha was sitting in one of the oversized chairs with a roll of yarn in her lap, and a cat curled up on either side of her. She started to get up when she saw Derek.
“No, don’t get up,” he told her. He went to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
She patted his face and said, “You get more handsome every time I see you. But, your eyes look sad. What’s wrong, Derek?”
He smiled. These people knew him so well that getting anything past them was going to be next to impossible. “Nothing is wrong,” he said, glancing from Samantha to her husband. “I just need to ask you both some things, and I’m not sure where to start or even how to go about it.”
Samantha put her knitting down, and Trevor took a seat next to her. “Sit down, Derek,” Samantha told him. He took the seat opposite them, and she said “Do you need anything to drink, or eat? Have you eaten?”
Food was a big part of the way Samantha expressed her love to her family. If someone didn’t know better, they might expect both her and her husband to be abnormally large people.
He smiled again, “No thank you, Samantha. I’m fine.”
“Okay then,” she said, “Tell us what’s on your mind. If there’s something you need, all you have to do is ask; you know that.”
“I do know that,” he said, “Thank you. The questions I have for you are about a very difficult subject. For the two of you.”
“Is it about Sarah?” Trevor asked. The only thing in either of their lives that had been difficult enough that they’d had trouble moving past it were the deaths of their daughters.
“Sort of,” he said. “Can you tell me about when Sarah and her sister were born? Where were you? Who else was there? Who told you that the one baby had died?”
“Of course Derek,” Samantha said, “But why?”
He looked from her face to Trevor’s. He could see that the loss of that child showed as fresh on them both now as if it had happened twenty-four days rather than twenty-four years ago. There was no way that Chloe was right when she had suggested they had given up one of their children.