"You hated that ballet. You complained how boring it was for days."
"Yeah, but I saw it. I had the experience. That's something," he defended.
She smiled. "I thought it was boring, too."
"What?" he asked in surprise. "You did not."
"I did. But I couldn't tell you that. I never would have heard the end of it. I had talked so much about introducing culture into our lives; I couldn't say I hated every second of that ballet. But the truth is that I couldn't follow the story, and while I appreciated the work that the dancers went through, I didn't feel anything, except boredom."
"Well, well, the secrets are all coming out now. Next you're going to tell me you don't really like opera, either."
"No way. I've already told you one of my secrets. You tell me one of yours. Something you think I don’t know."
"Something you don't know," Ryan echoed, thinking for a moment. "Okay, I've got it."
"Really?" she asked warily, wondering if it was a good idea to be sharing secrets with a man she was about to divorce.
"Senior year in college, I finished your paper on the Odyssey."
She frowned. "No, you didn't."
"Yeah, I did," he said, looking her straight in the eye. "You were pulling an all- nighter, but you'd been cramming for finals for days, and that paper was the last thing you had to do. I got up at two a.m. to see if you were coming to bed, and you were fast asleep, your head on the desk. I tried to wake you up, but you were out. I read through what you had on the screen and saw you were just missing an ending. So I wrote it for you."
She stared at him in astonishment. "How would you have known what to write? You knew nothing about the Odyssey."
"You talked about your paper for days, Nicole. Don't you remember?"
"I remember, but still…"
"I knew what you were trying to say. I looked through the beginning of your paper and repeated some of your main points at the end. I was going to tell you, but then I fell asleep. When I woke up that morning you were gone. It was a little late to tell you what I'd done, and I must admit I was worried that I was going to get you flunked out of that class. But two days later, you had an A, and I felt very good about myself."
She saw his smug smile and shook her head. "I can't believe you did that, Ryan."
"What you can't believe is that I got you an A," he said pointedly. "It was your first A in that class."
"That wasn't because of you. You couldn’t have written more than a few paragraphs."
"I think it was about a page."
She frowned. "It's weird, because now that you say that, I do remember waking up feeling groggy and wondering when I'd actually finished the paper. I was so tired. But it looked done."
"You're welcome."
As she gazed into Ryan's eyes, she felt the old connection between them. "I can't believe you could finish my paper and I wouldn’t know. You must have written the end in a way that sounded like me."
"Well, I knew you pretty well then, Nicole."
"Yes you did," she said slowly, wondering if now was a good time to talk about what had happened between them. They were getting along so well, she was almost reluctant to bring it up, but something compelled her to open her mouth. "Ryan—"
"No," he said, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. "Not tonight."
"How do you know what I'm going to say?"
"I know."
"You're always the one who wants to talk, and I'm usually the one who doesn't," she reminded him. "This is your chance."
"I understand, and I'll probably regret not having this conversation, but it's been a long day, and I don't want to fight with you, Nic. We need to work together to find Brandon. And I don't think we should let ourselves get distracted by anything else."
"You're right," she said, feeling both annoyed that he was trying to control things but also relieved not to get into their emotional history.
Ryan stretched out on to his back, pillowing his head with his arms. "So tell me the story of Angel's Bay."
"Well, okay," she began, trying to remember what she'd read. "It starts around the time of the Gold Rush. Ships were going up and down the coast of California, bringing miners to the Gold Country. When they had found their fortunes or gave up, they took the same ships back down the coast. Sometimes, those ships were laden with gold and filled with joyous miners. Other times, the holds were empty and people were filled with discouragement and despair."
"You are loving this," Ryan interrupted. "I can hear the excitement in your voice."
"I do love a story, and this one is pretty good, so don't interrupt."
"Fine. Go on."
"One of those ships got caught up in a terrible storm. The boat broke up apart and many, many people were flung into the sea. There were legendary tales of heroic rescues but also selfish acts of survival. It was even believed that one man was murdered on the ship before it went down in the storm. But no one really knows what happened. Or, at least, I didn't see it in the articles I read." She cleared her throat and continued. "When morning came, the survivors gathered together by the bay and mourned their lost loved ones. As they waited for help to arrive, they built shelters and eventually a town was born. They called it Angel's Bay, in honor of the lost souls. Legend says that miracles still happen here, and that sometimes in the misty fog you can see the angels keeping watch over their descendants."
"That's quite a story."
"It is. Oh, and the female survivors of the wreck made a memorial quilt, a square for each person or family that was lost at sea. Sometimes they used remnants of the actual clothing the people wore. That quilt became the centerpiece of the town and still hangs in the Angel's Heart Quilt Shop in downtown Angel's Bay. I bet it's an amazing piece of history, telling a story of a generation that lived a very long time ago." She paused, knowing she'd gotten caught up in the story. She couldn't help herself. It was always amazing to her to look back into history and see how people reacted to the events of their times, and how sometimes heroes emerged in the most unlikeliest places. "Ryan, are you awake?"
He smiled. "Yes. I'm just thinking."
"About the quilt? I bet Brandon would like it. He's always interested in angles and squares and things that match. Although, these squares probably don't match. Each one is most likely completely unique."
"Yeah," Ryan said, distraction in his voice.
Her gaze narrowed on his face. "What are you thinking about?"
"I was thinking about the way Brandon likes to match things up, rocks, blocks, leaves of grass, the petals on a flower. If there's a group of anything, he has to find two of a kind."
"He's obsessed," she said. "The day that Brandon disappeared he was doing just that, matching up pebbles along the school fence. And we had a moment, Ryan, a really small moment, but Brandon found a perfect pair, and he looked right at me, and there was a gleam in his eyes. It was triumph. He was sharing his success with me." She bit down her lips as tears came into her eyes. "I wanted to freeze that moment in time. I wanted to hang on to it for as long as I could, but it was gone so fast. He turned away and began the search again, the way he always does, because no victory is ever enough."
Ryan sat up straight. "Do you think…?
"What?" she asked, not sure what he wanted to say.
"The need to match. This is going to sound crazy, but do you think Brandon has been looking for his twin? Has he always known deep inside that some part of him is missing?"
She shivered at his words. "I guess it's possible. He's certainly driven to find the other half of something. Maybe it's a need that he doesn't understand, but something his subconscious drives him to do."
"Did he do it before he was diagnosed?"
"I don't remember. He was so active as a toddler. When I picture him in my mind at that time in his life, I see a blur of smiles and movement. And he was so verbal. I can still hear his voice. It was so strange when he went silent. I think that's what I missed first—the sound of his voice
, the tenor of his laugh." She blew out a breath, feeling another huge wave of emotion. They just kept coming, much like the waves pounding the beach in front of her. "Who would separate identical twins, Ryan? It was wrong to split the two boys apart. They're brothers."
"Maybe the family or one of the lawyers thought it would be easier to adopt them out."
"So many couples are desperate for babies. We can't have been the only ones who would have loved to have twins. I bet the Schillings would have taken two children, too. Unless, they didn't want two, and suddenly there was an extra." Her nerves tightened. "Maybe that's why Brandon suddenly became available." She shook her head in frustration. "I'm tired of having questions and no answers."
"We'll get answers tomorrow. Let's go back to the inn." He got to his feet and held out his hand to her.
She hesitated and then took it, his warm fingers curling around hers as he pulled her to her feet. When he let go, she was surprised at how she missed that simple touch.
By the time they got back to their room it was after midnight. She grabbed her pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and went into the bathroom to change and brush her teeth. When she got out, Ryan took a turn. It felt both perfectly normal and incredibly awkward to be sharing a room with him.
She climbed into the bed nearest the window and left the light between the beds on. A moment later, Ryan came out of the bathroom, got into the other bed and turned off the light. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep but when she wasn't thinking about Brandon, her mind was on the man so close, and yet so far away.
A few minutes later, she said, "Ryan, are you asleep?"
"No."
She rolled on to her side. A small stream of moonlight lit up his face. "I don't think I can sleep."
"Try not talking," he said dryly.
She thought about that suggestion for a good minute. "Nope, that's not going to work. I feel tense."
Silence followed her words. Then he said, "Do you want a back rub?"
Have Ryan's hands on her? A new tension entered her body. "That might not be a good idea."
"No, it's a lousy idea," he agreed. "Because if I touch you, I'm not going to be able to just rub your back. And we both know you don't want anything more from me."
His words sent a jolt through her body. It had been a long time since he'd said something provocative. Or maybe it was just the first time she'd let herself hear him. Part of her wanted to refute his statement, because maybe she did want something more. Maybe she wanted to get rid of some of the tension and worry running around inside of her, and having sex with Ryan would probably accomplish that.
But it was never just sex with Ryan. She couldn't be with him without really being with him, without opening up her heart as well as her body. And that was dangerous.
She flopped on to her back and stared at the ceiling. She could hear him breathing and knew he wasn't close to being asleep, either.
"Did you ever think life was going to be this hard?" she asked.
"I should have, because I came from a childhood that was hard. But when I met you and your family, I thought all the bad stuff was behind me." He sighed. "And don't take what I just said the wrong way. Brandon isn't the "bad stuff". It's his illness. It's the frustration of knowing that the kid I love has to live with challenges that he may not be able to conquer."
"I know what you mean. It's the disappointment that overwhelms me. I'm so sorry for Brandon. When he was a tiny baby, and I used to rock him to sleep, I would whisper in his ear about all the adventures he was going to have, all the big moments that make up a life. I still want him to have those moments."
"I do, too." He sighed. "You should try to sleep. Morning will come faster."
"And then what?"
"Then we take the next step to getting our son back."
Chapter Nine
Saturday morning Jessica Schilling walked into her kitchen and was surprised to find Charlotte Adams at the counter making coffee. "You're still here? Did you spend the night?"
"Yes. I wanted to keep an eye on you." Charlotte gave her a worried look. "I didn't think you should be alone."
"Thanks. I appreciate that. I can't believe I slept so long." She glanced at the clock. She'd collapsed after Joe had told her about Kyle's identical twin. That last shocking piece of information had done her in. She remembered Joe and Charlotte helping her into bed, and then everything else was a foggy blur. "Sorry I fell apart like that. Did I dream the part about Kyle having a twin?"
Charlotte gave her a sympathetic smile as she handed her a mug of coffee. "Sorry, but no. Kyle has a twin named Brandon. Joe is still trying to get information on the biological parents to see if they might be involved, now that we know both boys have disappeared. Apparently it's not that easy to find out who they are."
"Why not?"
"For one thing, the attorney Travis used died a few years ago."
"But aren't there birth certificates or something?"
"Joe said he'd be over this morning with an update." Charlotte had no sooner finished speaking when the doorbell rang. "That's probably him."
As Charlotte went to answer the door, Jessica sat down at the table and glanced around the kitchen. Everything was neat and tidy, nothing on the counters save for a plastic container of cookies. She knew a few of the parents in Kyle's class had stopped by with casserole dishes and salads, but there was no sign of them now. Charlotte must have put everything away.
As Joe entered the kitchen, she got to her feet. There was a serious expression on his face, and she couldn't help but worry about what was coming next.
"Hello, Jessica."
"Joe. Do you have any news for me?"
"I've been looking into the circumstances of Kyle's adoption. I was able to track down the daughter of Travis's attorney. She lives in San Diego. She told me that all of her father's paperwork was in storage a few miles from her house. I've sent Detective Marlow down there to go through the boxes, but I'll be honest, the daughter said her father was disorganized and forgetful toward the end of his life, and she has no idea if he kept good records."
Jessica's heart sank. Feeling suddenly weak and tired again, she sat back down on the chair. "That doesn't sound very hopeful."
"We'll know more once Jason gets there." Joe shot Charlotte a quick look. "Did you tell her about the Prescotts?"
Charlotte shook her head. "I didn't have a chance."
"Who are the Prescotts?" Jessica asked.
"The parents of the other missing child," Charlotte explained. "They called here last night when you were asleep. They drove down from San Francisco yesterday and would like to speak to you. They're on their way over now. I gave them your address. I hope that's okay."
"I guess," she said half-heartedly, feeling completely overwhelmed by everything. "But I don't know anything about the adoption. That was Travis and Sharon's deal." She'd barely finished speaking when the doorbell rang again. "Could you get the door? I need to brush my hair and pull myself together."
"Of course. I have to take off for a while, Jessica. I have a patient going into labor. I'll check in on you later."
"That's fine. Thanks for all your help, Charlotte. I couldn't have gotten through the last few days without you." As Charlotte left the kitchen, Jessica looked at Joe. "Do you know how lucky you are to have her?"
Joe smiled. "Believe me, I do."
"I better get dressed." She dashed across the hall and up the stairs. She felt a little nervous about meeting the other family. Although, they were probably the only people in the world who could relate to what she was going through. Maybe teaming up was a good idea.
* * *
Nicole glanced around the block of small, charming houses set in the foothills of Angel's Bay. It looked like a family neighborhood. She could see bikes in the driveway next door, and red rubber ball peeked out from under the bush in the Schilling's front yard. But there were no children playing outside on this Saturday morning. Perhaps the parents were keeping their kids indoo
rs, afraid of the kidnapper who had stolen Kyle out from under them.
"Ring it again," Ryan said impatiently.
Before she could do so, the door opened, and an attractive blonde in her mid thirties gave them a warm smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Prescott? I'm Charlotte Adams. I spoke to you on the phone. Mrs. Schilling will be down in a few minutes. Won't you come in?"
Nicole was relieved by her words. For a moment, she'd been afraid that Mrs. Schilling would not want to see them.
Charlotte ushered them into a warm, cozy living room, filled with a large couch, a matching loveseat and armchair, and a piano by the window. There was evidence of a child everywhere, books on the coffee table, toys on the floor, and photographs on all the walls. Over the mantel was a large photo of a little boy about four, who looked exactly like Brandon.
She swallowed a knot in her throat. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She was drawn to that picture. She heard Charlotte say something, but her words didn't make sense to her. Her entire focus was on the boy in the picture.
And then Ryan's hands came down on her shoulders. She felt his hard chest against her back, and was grateful for the support.
"Look at that smile," she whispered. "It's full of light and life. And he's looking right at the camera."
"Yeah," Ryan said gruffly. "Let's sit down on the couch, Nicole."
"I don't know if I can stop looking at him. He's Brandon, but he's not." She turned to Ryan and saw pain in his eyes. He might not be saying much, but he was just as affected by the picture of Kyle as she was. His hands slipped down her arms, and he gripped her fingers.
"We can't go there," he said.
She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. Comparing the boys would only distract them from their goal. They were here to find Brandon. Learning more about his twin could come later. Her fingers tightened around Ryan's. "You're right. I'm glad you're here with me."
"I wouldn't be anywhere else," he said, his voice filled with emotion.
"Mr. and Mrs. Prescott?"
The male voice broke them apart.
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