Eyes of a Stanger

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  Tawnia nodded. “Yet she did say it was about my mother. For all I know, she’s happily married with five other children.”

  “I don’t know what’s worse,” Autumn said softly, “knowing someone is dead and never coming back or not knowing for sure.”

  Tawnia hugged her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Autumn gave her a last squeeze and pulled away.

  “I think I’ll lie down for a few minutes,” Tawnia said. “We got back so late last night, and I didn’t sleep much after that.”

  “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

  Autumn went out onto the porch of the bungalow. Jake had taken them back to her apartment last night to gather some clothes and then dropped them off at the store to get Tawnia’s car. So far they hadn’t been tracked by the media.

  She sat in the lounge chair. The neighbor couple was walking by, arm in arm, dressed in Sunday clothes. They waved and Autumn waved back. This was a nice, friendly neighborhood. Tawnia had called the landlady that morning, and she had been gracious about Autumn’s staying for as long as she needed.

  How long would that be? Autumn’s life had changed and would never, ever be the same. She took a deep breath to stop the panic. She hadn’t told Tawnia, but she was as eager and nervous as Tawnia was about the appointment with BervaDee Mendenhall. She and Tawnia had talked big about staying close no matter what, but Autumn was frightened. Over the years many friends had come and gone, but only family remained. Even if the family was not related by blood, like Summer and Winter, they stayed. A connection of family would tie Tawnia to her forever.

  She closed her eyes and lay back. The warmth of the sun penetrated the coldness in her broken arm and for the moment she was content.

  Bret arrived minutes later, sprinting up to the house with an energy Autumn envied. “Hey,” he called. “You look comfortable.”

  She smiled up at him lazily. “Have a seat.”

  “I think I will.” He settled in the rocker.

  He didn’t ask who she was, so either he knew or had assumed she was Tawnia. Maybe she’d wait and see. “So what’s up?”

  “The FBI thinks they have an open and shut case. They suspect that Robert and Noreen set the charges, though both deny doing so. Robert worked for the marines a long time ago, and they think he must have learned about explosives there. Apparently when they found the fins on the boat, they also found some of the explosives—that stuff you thought was clay.”

  Well, at least that told her who he was talking to. Autumn swallowed with difficulty. The memory of that day on the boat was hazy because of her fever, but she did remember the clay, disguised in a box of children’s art supplies. She’d actually held it in her hand.

  “So, basically,” Bret continued, “they think Robert concocted the whole boat thing to cover up the real cause of the collapse.”

  “Hoping the authorities would never figure out that explosives had been used.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, he did look dishonest when I met him.”

  “You were in pain that day.”

  “So? I didn’t think you were untrustworthy.”

  He blew out a frustrated breath. “You might be right. Still, for one person to be responsible for all this, it’d take a lot of money, and I don’t know where Robert would get it.”

  Autumn thought a moment. “Then there’s someone else responsible. A group. Maybe working with him.”

  “But if Robert’s working with terrorists, why on earth would they want to damage this bridge when there are so many better targets? Targets that could do serious damage to the economy? I mean, one part of the city is a mess, that’s true, but we can always go down to the next bridge to cross the river, so it’s not like everything in the city will stop.”

  “So that’s why they think it’s Robert.” Autumn sighed. “He probably is guilty. What about Sheree? Did they find her? What’s she saying?”

  “She’s vanished completely. They went to her apartment, but she hasn’t been there all night. Nothing’s missing. Her friends and family haven’t heard anything. No one has seen her since we did last night.”

  “She’s hiding.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe the guy who really did this got to her first.”

  A shiver rolled down Autumn’s spine. Bret had a point. Someone who would collapse a bridge that killed dozens of people wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of one more.

  “Look, Autumn, about last night. I mean, Friday night.”

  She sat up, swinging her legs to the ground. “You mean when you kissed me.”

  “Yeah.” He scooted forward until his feet touched hers. “I’ve been thinking hard about it all night, and I really, really like you, Autumn. I’m glad we met. I think . . . well, I think we might have something here. Maybe we should date and see what happens.”

  He leaned down from the taller rocking chair to kiss her and for a moment, Autumn was tempted. Bret was an attractive man and dating him for however long it took for one of them to come to their senses wasn’t altogether an unpleasant idea. But yesterday morning Autumn had glimpsed the extent of Tawnia’s feelings for Bret, and she wasn’t about to betray those.

  Autumn drew back, shaking her head. “You know what I think? I think you’ve talked yourself into liking me because you think I’ll be Tawnia without the baggage related to your brother. But I’m not Tawnia, and I never could be. The truth is, I’m weird. I eat strange food, I often dress funny, and I wouldn’t wear shoes for my own wedding.”

  He grinned and reached for her hand. “That’s okay. It’s who you are, and I like that.”

  “You might think so now, but you won’t always. Believe me, I know. I’ve had lots of boyfriends, and it never works with guys like you.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she hurried on. “You’d never go to a store barefooted with me, and I don’t think you’re ready to give up microwaves or refined sugar. You have no idea how bad preservatives are for you, and you probably haven’t taken an herb in your entire life. You might think you see me when you look at me, but deep down, I know it’s Tawnia you really want. If you were anyone else, I’d ride this train to see where it goes—because you are really kind of cute—but I won’t hurt Tawnia this way. She means too much to me, especially now that Winter—” She broke off, knowing she simply couldn’t explain the connection she felt with Tawnia.

  “Tawnia and I aren’t dating.”

  “Because of a dead man?” she retorted. “Because she dared to like your brother?” Now it was Autumn’s turn to lean forward and look deeply into his eyes. She saw the shock there, but she didn’t care. He needed to understand. “Get this—it didn’t mean she was going to marry him, and even if it had, you can’t hold it against her. You think your brother would sit around worrying about dating someone you liked if you’d been the one to die? No, he’d get on with his life. We all have to.” Autumn felt the tears in her eyes. “I know what it’s like to lose people you love. But losing them doesn’t mean you stop living. It can’t.”

  Gently, she pulled her hands from his and added, “Tawnia really cares about you—or at least she did. You know where you should be, but if you’re too dumb to get there, I can’t help you.”

  Bret looked angry, but he held his tongue—the sign of a good man in Autumn’s book. The shock in his blue eyes gradually faded. “You might be right,” he admitted. “My pride doesn’t want you to be, but I”—he stared down at his hands—“I did miss her a lot after she left, and if I was honest, she’s why I agreed to come out and look at the bridges. I wanted to see her again.”

  “That should have been a clue. You should at least try again. It should be her you’re asking out. And let’s not pretend it was me you wanted to kiss on Friday night.”

  He lifted his head. “Even if you’re right, it might not matter. She seems pretty gone on that firefighter.”

  “Maybe that’s because she doesn’t think there’s another choice.” Without another word or a backward glance,
Autumn stood and went inside.

  She walked quietly to the bedroom where the door was slightly ajar. Tawnia was on the bed, lying on top of the blankets, breathing evenly. Asleep at last.

  Had she done the right thing? Tawnia might have already given up on Bret for good, and maybe someone like Orion would be better at taking care of her.

  Autumn just didn’t know.

  Chapter 24

  The house was a nice one, older, with a double garage, two tall stories, and an attic window. The yard was immaculate, with sweeping flowerbeds and attractive shrubbery. The wide porch ran the width of the house, wrapping around the corner. Large hanging baskets of mixed flowers and vines hung from the porch at regular intervals. The furniture on the porch was obviously of the best quality. The feeling of the house, if not the design, reminded Tawnia of her parents’ house in Kansas. A homesickness that she hadn’t felt since the first year of college curled in her belly.

  “Nice place.” Autumn was wearing a flowered blue summer dress that nearly hid her bare feet, and she looked as though she fit in with the house and yard. She squatted down by one of the beds. “Rosemary, thyme, sweet basil, chives.”

  “What are those, herbs?” Tawnia asked.

  “Yes, mostly for cooking. There’s a lot here, more than most people know what to do with.”

  “Like the pots in your window at the apartment.”

  “Exactly. It’s best to grow them yourself if you want organic.”

  Tawnia nodded, not really hearing what Autumn was saying. Her stomach was doing strange things, and it was all she could do to appear calm. Questions still came to her mind about what BervaDee Mendenhall had to tell her, from the possibility that her mother was in prison for attempted infanticide to the more remote possibility that her mother had been a foreign princess who was visiting the United States when she became pregnant and had to give up the baby in order to keep her crown. I feel like a teenager again, Tawnia thought at the seesaw of emotions. She ran her moistening palms over the green skirt of her suit. She shouldn’t have worn the jacket; the heat of the day was stifling.

  They went up the steps, and Autumn held back to let Tawnia ring the bell. Footsteps came almost immediately, not slow or brisk, but steady and purposeful. A woman opened the door and pushed open the screen, her slightly full figure erect in a blue dress and high heels. She was taller than Tawnia, with short silver hair that perfectly framed the classic lines of her face. A beauty in her day, Tawnia thought. Now the beauty had become a sort of regal handsomeness.

  “Are you Tawnia?” Her voice was the same as on the telephone, huskier than most women, but pleasant and inviting.

  “Yes. I’m Tawnia McKnight. You’re Mrs. Mendenhall, aren’t you?”

  “Please, call me BervaDee. I still think of Mrs. Mendenhall as my mother-in-law.”

  “Thank you for seeing me.” Tawnia turned and indicated Autumn. “This is Autumn Rain. I think you knew her parents.”

  They had planned this moment to the letter. Though their clothing was different, they’d taken care that their hair and makeup was exact—even if that meant Autumn had to wear her hair flatter on top, and Tawnia had to compromise with more eyeliner. Tawnia wasn’t wearing her contact, and in the sun, their identical mismatched eyes were obvious. Autumn was still noticeably thinner in the face, and the scar near her left eye could be seen, but their similarities overwhelmed those small differences.

  BervaDee’s brown eyes widened in surprise. “Autumn Rain. I knew you as a child, but—” Here she broke off as she looked back at Tawnia, disbelief etched on her face.

  “You see it, don’t you?” Tawnia asked. “Now you know why I had to come. She’s what I found.”

  BervaDee nodded. “Please, come in.”

  She led them through a surprisingly narrow entryway, given the size of the house, and into a sitting room where a jar of lemonade and a plate of treats awaited. BervaDee indicated the Victorian sofa. “Please, have a seat.” She herself chose a plush chair opposite them, sitting delicately on the edge. Her eyes went from Tawnia to Autumn and then back again. But when she spoke, it wasn’t about their appearance.

  “I heard about your father on the news,” she said to Autumn. “I am so sorry. He was a good man.”

  “Thank you.” Autumn looked down at her hands, and Tawnia could tell she was fighting tears.

  “We found a note,” Tawnia said, “in a box of records at Autumn’s house. It was from Dr. Loveridge, and it mentioned your name.”

  “We thought BervaDee must be his wife,” Autumn added. “It was only after we talked to Tawnia’s mother and the adoption agency that we made the connection to your real last name.”

  “It proved that we were somehow connected.” Tawnia fell silent, watching the woman. Would she tell them anything of value?

  BervaDee poured them each a glass of lemonade, her sturdy hands the tiniest bit unsteady. At last she looked up and met Tawnia’s stare. “I had planned to tell you today that your mother was dead. I didn’t want you to waste years searching for her.” She glanced at Autumn. “But this . . . I never expected this. Both of you with those same eyes. It’s unmistakable. I swear to you, I didn’t know. I mean, I was as happy as Dr. Loveridge that he found Summer and Winter a baby when he did, but if I had known where he found her, I wouldn’t have let him do it. It wasn’t right.”

  “What wasn’t right?” Tawnia could barely choke out the words.

  “Separating twins.” BervaDee nodded at their shocked silence. “There is no other explanation. Tawnia, your mother died after childbirth. It was a long, hard delivery, and she wasn’t quite sixteen. I was responsible for taking you to the parents she chose. The McKnights in Kansas.”

  “And Autumn?”

  BervaDee’s shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug. The fine wrinkles around her eyes standing out in the bright light streaming through the sheer blinds. “While I was gone to Kansas, Dr. Loveridge found a baby for Summer and Winter, but seeing you two, I realize that there were two babies born that night, not one.”

  “No! That’s not how it happened!” Autumn set down her glass on the tray, slopping juice over the edge. “My mother was Kendall. She stayed with Winter and Summer and saw that they would be good parents, and that’s why she decided to let them raise me!”

  “That is also true.” BervaDee leaned forward. “Don’t you see, dear? Kendall was Tawnia’s mother too. We didn’t have the access to ultrasound machines in those days that we do now, and Kendall was a poor girl who had to depend on free care. She had maybe two doctor visits in her whole life—once at a few months along and then not until seven months, shortly before you were born. When she measured so large, we thought she was just further along. I should have realized something was up when Tawnia was so small. You were born early, together, probably a few hours apart. And Dr. Loveridge hid it from me.”

  Tawnia was stunned. Of all the things she’d expected to hear from this woman, this had never entered her head. She saw a tear sliding down Autumn’s face, and she reached out and took her hand. Twins. If what this woman was saying was true, they were sisters. A surge of joy shot through her, as painful as it was delicious.

  “Kendall loved Summer and wanted her to have a baby,” BervaDee went on, smiling at their joined hands. “In the week before the birth, she asked Dr. Loveridge if she could change her mind, and of course he called me to let me know there might be a problem. At that point it would have been a terrible mess to take the baby away from the McKnights, but Dr. Loveridge was always adamant that the mother should have the final choice. We talked for hours about it but came to no conclusion because Kendall herself seemed to waver. She really liked the McKnights as well. They sent her beautiful letters with pictures of the room they’d made for the baby. She wanted her baby to have all the opportunities life could offer.” BervaDee sighed and folded her hands in her lap. “The baby came early, or so I thought, but twins nearly always come early. My best guess is that when Dr. Loveridge realized
Kendall was having twins, he tried to fulfill at least one of her last wishes. She may even have agreed to it before she died. We’ll never know. But I do know that you are both her daughters. You look very much like her.”

  “How could he separate twins?” Tawnia asked. Images of what it might have been like to grow up with a sister assaulted her mind, and an intense hatred of the man who had stolen that from her came out of nowhere.

  “I’m sure he did what he thought was best,” BervaDee folded her hands primly in her lap. “Giving each of the families a child would make a lot of people happy, and the babies couldn’t long for what they didn’t know they lost, could they?”

  “Yes, they could.” Tawnia was crying now. “My entire life I’ve been so restless, moving around from state to state. All this time I think I was looking for Autumn. My sister.”

  Autumn squeezed her hand. “We ended up in a lot of the same cities. Maybe we were looking for each other.”

  “Dr. Loveridge felt guilty for years after Kendall died,” BervaDee said. “He blamed himself for her death. That’s why he kept such close tabs on you, Autumn. Until he died.”

  I hate him! Tawnia thought. Look what he stole from me!

  “Didn’t you ask where he got the baby for Summer?” Autumn asked.

  “He said it was a private adoption through another agency, and I had no reason to doubt him.” BervaDee frowned. “We had barely begun to date back then, and I didn’t know him as well as I came to later. We had both lost our spouses, you see. We would have married if he hadn’t died. He even left me this house.” A tender sadness had entered her voice.

  “All these years we could have been together,” Tawnia said.

  BervaDee looked at her steadily. “Would you give up your parents, then? Or wish that Autumn had given up hers?” She waited a moment, and when neither answered, she continued. “No. I don’t think so. Neither of you would. I know you missed out on a lot, not growing up together, but you gained a lot, too. Your birth mother sacrificed to give you a good life, and from what I can see, you’ve both had that. Now, shouldn’t you start thinking about all the future you still have together rather than wasting time regretting the past?”