Light from Her Mirror (Mirrors Don't Lie Book 3)

by Becki Willis

  “Mr. Sweetie Pie, as Travis calls him? I don’t think you have to worry about that. You can’t convince yourself to fall in or out of love. It just happens.”

  “I know that, I’m just not sure she does.” Makenna turned her face up for his kiss. “I just want her and Travis to be as happy as we are,” she whispered. “They deserve it.”

  After a long and tender kiss, Hardin nuzzled his face against hers. A neat, thin ribbon of beard trimmed the square set of his jaw, one shade darker than his blond-brown hair. His intense blue eyes were warm with love as he pulled slightly back and smiled at her. “Yes, they deserve to be happy. But I’m not sure anyone can be as happy as I am.” His words were deep and sensual, whispered with raw emotion. “Because I don’t think anyone has ever loved another person as much as I love you.”

  “I know of one other person,” she whispered fervently, pressing a kiss onto his lips. “I love you just as much.”

  “Marry me, Makenna,” he breathed into her mouth.

  “I-I am going to marry you.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.”

  “Not soon enough.” It was a conversation they had all too often. “I want to know a date. A date not more than a month away.”

  She pulled away. “Hardin, you know I want to marry you, more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. But I- I can’t marry you just yet. Not until all of this with Joseph Mandarino is settled. Not- Not until Kenzie is settled.” She curled her fingers into the hard planes of his chest, begging him to understand. “How can I marry the love of my life and ask her to be a part of my happiness, when her own heart is breaking? I can’t do that to her. And-And I can’t abandon her right now. She needs me, Hardin.”

  “I need you, too,” he growled. After a terse moment, he gave a weary sigh and gathered her close again, leaning his forehead against hers. “Kenzie’s already like a sister to me, you know. And when we do get married, she will always be welcomed in our home. She can even live with us, as long as she understands the meaning of a locked door.” He slid her a devilish look that heated her blood. “I understand waiting until this thing with your father is over, providing it’s over with soon. But what if she and Travis don’t work out? What if her heart stays broken? You can’t put our happiness on hold, waiting for her to find her own.”

  “I know that, I do. Thank you for being so patient with me.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Hopefully, we won’t have to wait very long. Hopefully, Travis will come to his senses and tell her how he feels. But he has to call her first! What is wrong with him, anyway?”

  “Travis walked into a very sensitive case in Nacogdoches. He has his hands full right now. I can’t talk about it, but Kenzie needs to give him a little space, cut him a little slack. She needs to be a little more patient with him.”

  “Unfortunately, patience is one thing my sister has in very short supply.”

  Chapter Four

  After taking the sisters grocery shopping, Hardin prepared a large meal. He joked that he would be working the next few evenings and wanted them to have plenty of leftovers so that they would not starve.

  They ended up making a small dinner party of it, inviting their neighbors Marci and Linda to join them. The group lingered on the balcony, enjoying good wine, friendship, and some of Hardin’s entertaining stories. Makenna knew that both her friends had not-so-secret crushes on her buff and handsome Ranger; there was something about his easy manner, gentle teasing, and his deep, smooth laughter that captured a woman’s heart the moment she met him. And while their eyes lingered on his handsome face and rub-board abs, he never seemed to notice the devastating effects he had on any woman other than Makenna.

  Kenzie insisted on cleaning up the kitchen, shooing her neighbors out the door when they tried to help. She and Craven were having a running text conversation, but her mind kept straying to Travis. Despite her brave claims of no longer being in love with him, she knew it was a lie. She was miserable without him, and deeply hurt by his failure to call as promised.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to help clean up?” Hardin asked one last time as he made his way to the door.

  “After you did all the cooking? It’s the least I could do. And I’m almost done.”

  “If you’re sure… Oh, hey, I almost forgot.” He picked up an envelope from where he had stuffed it on a shelf earlier. “The Captain gave me these to give to you. They’re the personal pictures from that roll of film your mother left you in the envelope. He thought you might like them back.”

  Kenzie’s hands were unsteady as she reached out to take the pictures from him. The day she left home for good, her mother gave her a large manila envelope, telling her to keep it safe but to never open it. Her mother called it insurance. Thinking it contained a life insurance policy, Kenzie tucked the envelope away and forgot all about it. But three weeks ago she had re-discovered the envelope and finally opened it, thinking eight years was close enough to ‘never’. Along with a cryptic letter, the envelope contained coded messages, partial evidence of the fraud surrounding Modern Power, and an undeveloped canister of film.

  When developed, the film revealed several politicians involved in the scam, but two of the pictures on the roll were personal. The pictures were of her shared third birthday party with Makenna, taken shortly before their separation. The pictures were proof that, for at least a day - and possibly the first three years of her life - she might have had a happy, normal life, even if she did not remember it. Just the possibility offered her solace and a small measure of peace.

  “Thank you, Hardin,” she whispered, pulling the small envelope to her chest. For now, it was enough to hold them close to her heart and imagine the memory.

  “You bet.” He started to turn away, but stopped to look at his soon-to-be sister-in-law. “He’s got a lot going on, you know,” he said softly.

  She didn’t even pretend not to know they were talking about Travis. “I’m sure he does, unpacking and all.”

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but he’s working on a major case. He got this promotion because he is very good at what he does. And because they needed him there.”

  “Is he- Is he in danger?”

  When Hardin hesitated a fraction of a second too long, Kenzie’s breath stalled in her chest. “Our job always has the element of danger.”

  “Did he- Did he know what he was walking into, when he took this job?”

  “Yes.”

  “If anything happens to him…” Her voice thickened with tears and she was unable to finish the thought.

  “Be patient with him, Kenzie. He has a lot going on right now.”

  Angrily pushing away the tears that gathered in her eyes, Kenzie set her jaw. “Yeah, well, so do I. The last thing I need right now is the added worry that he’s going to go and get himself hurt. He knew the danger I was in and apparently he knew the danger he was walking into. He went anyway.” She forced her heart to be as cold as her voice. “He made his choice.”

  “He’s a good man, Kenzie. The best I’ve ever known. And I know he cares about you.”

  “Apparently, he just doesn’t care enough.” Her voice was softer now, sadder. Faking a smile, she said, “Thanks for dinner, Hardin. And thanks for the pictures. I appreciate it.”

  “Sure thing, Sis.” He hugged her and just for a moment, she clung to him, needing to feel the security of his embrace. “Keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. Trust your instincts. And call me if a single hair on the back of your neck as much as tickles.”

  Kenzie shoved him playfully away. “Okay, okay. Now kiss my sister and say goodnight.”

  “You heard her, woman,” Hardin grinned, grabbing Makenna by the waist. “Kiss me.”

  As the two lovebirds lingered by the door, Kenzie wandered toward the couch, carrying her envelope of pictures. The two photographs were the only ones she had of her childhood. One of them also featured her father, smiling like she had never seen him smile before.
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  What had gone so horribly wrong to change their lives?

  She had asked the question a hundred times, but never found an answer. They had been happy in the picture; just two months later, her family left New Hampshire, abandoned Makenna at a church in San Antonio, and the mad cycle of their new life had begun. Over the course of the next fifteen years, Kenzie had lived in over a dozen towns, had gone by almost as many different aliases. Her entire life had been a series of lies and make-believe.

  With legs suddenly too weak to support her, Kenzie sank into the cushions of the couch. Her fingers shook as she pulled the photographs out. Tears blurred her vision as she studied the nearly identical faces, one cherub decked out in a frilly green dress, one in blue. Their hair was styled in long sausage curls, one head dark auburn, the other glossy black. The green eyes and dimpled smiles were the same on either child. And they were so happy.

  Kenzie sat back, curling her long legs beneath her as she continued to study the picture. She imagined what might be in each gaily-wrapped present. The cake, she decided, was probably chocolate with strawberry frosting. And after the party they would curl up on the big blue couch and their father would read to them from Makenna’s book.

  The book and a rag doll were the only toys their mother packed for Makenna’s new life. With nothing more than a change of clothes and a small patchwork quilt, their parents had left the little girl behind. And, it turned out, even the book and the quilt had not been a means of comfort for the child; both were tainted with clues, nothing more than pawns in the dangerous game their parents played.

  Shuffling the photo behind the other one, Kenzie realized she held three photos in her hand. There had only been two before; where had the third picture come from? Had it been left in the negative folder when they first looked at the roll? Puzzled, Kenzie glanced at the photo she remembered, the one with their father standing between the twins, his face all happy and proud. Pain hitched in her heart as she quickly slid the photo behind the others to reveal the new picture.

  Kenzie’s breath escaped on a gasp. The photograph shook as her hand trembled, making it difficult to focus, but one thing was crystal clear: something was terribly wrong.

  Across the room, Makenna shut the door behind Hardin and twisted the locks he insisted she use. One glance at her sister, and the smile slid from her face.

  “Kenzie! What’s wrong? Is it your leg? Something from the wreck? I knew you should have gone with the ambulance! What is wrong with you?” Makenna imagined vivid scenarios as she flew to her sister’s side. Kenzie was curled up on the couch, her face void of color and her entire body trembling.

  When her twin did not answer, Makenna sat down on the couch beside her. She touched her sister’s arm, finding it cold and quivering. “Honey, you’re as cold as ice. Are you in pain?”

  Kenzie managed to shake her head. She closed her eyes and turned the photograph in her hand toward her sister.

  “Oh!” Makenna’s voice squeaked when she saw the unfamiliar picture. Her own hand wobbled as she reached for it and pulled it close for examination.

  “Oh.” This time, the word whispered in awe. “Oh, my. Is this - Is this her? Is this… our mother?”

  A woman stood between the little girls in the photo, her arms curled around their waists as she bent to their level. The picture had been snapped as she was laughing, freezing the look of joy upon her beautiful face. Even though the color quality of the photograph had been compromised after so many years, there was no denying the sparkle of her green eyes, or the lively auburn highlights peeking from her dark hair. Her hair was clipped an inch beneath her ears and Makenna could practically see the cloud of curls dancing in the still photograph.

  Struggling to find a memory, Makenna stared at the woman who had given her birth. In her heart, Madeline and Kenneth Reagan were her parents. She had never had any desire to know the couple who gave her life, then gave her away. She had a faint memory of a man reading to her on a big blue couch, but she had no memory of this woman. For the first time, Makenna regretted that fact. The woman in the picture obviously doted on the two little girls. The children leaned into her, their faces happy and shining as they shared the spotlight with their mother.

  “We-We look like her.” Makenna breathed the words in awe. Reeling in her own shock, she never noticed Kenzie’s reaction to her wonderment. “We-We have her heart shaped face. Her eyes. Definitely her full figure. I-I think you have her cheekbones. And I guess this is where I got my red hair.” Her finger trembled as she traced the face of her birth mother, a woman she suddenly ached to remember.

  Tears ran unbidden down Makenna’s face. She thought she was beyond the hurt of being abandoned as a child, she thought she wanted nothing to do with Joseph and Maggie Mandarino, the people who so carelessly left her behind. It took only one photograph to change all that.

  “We look so happy,” Makenna said. A frown of confusion puckered her brow. “You-You said she was so stiff. So uncaring. But, look at this!” She thrust the photo in front of her twin. “She obviously loved us. There’s a glow in her face, a sparkle in her eyes. She loved us, Kenzie.” Desperation flavored her words. For the first time, she wanted to believe that. She needed to believe it. More importantly, Kenzie needed to believe it.

  Kenzie slowly shook her head, her cheeks ashen.

  “This woman loved us, Kenzie. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what made her give me away, what made her treat you so coldly, but you can’t deny this picture!” Makenna’s voice rose with something akin to panic. “Once upon a time, our mother loved us!”

  Kenzie continued to shake her head. Finally, a few strangled words squeezed past the lump in her throat. “Not her.”

  “What do you mean, not her? Of course her. You saw our room in New Hampshire. No one goes to that much trouble for their children unless they love them.” Their adventures in New England had led them to their childhood home, a home they legally owned. Practically untouched by time, the log cabin was exactly as they had left it twenty-three years ago. The room the twins shared was hand-painted with fairies, a little girl’s paradise in lavender and green.

  Kenzie managed a coherent whisper. “That’s not her.”

  “Not who? Our mother? Of course it is. We look exactly like her! I don’t remember her,” Makenna’s voice wavered at the admission, “but this is undoubtedly our mother.”

  Kenzie’s head bobbed in the other direction, nodding affirmation. “Yes,” she whispered. “Our mother.” Kenzie raised grief-stricken eyes to her sister. Her voice was raw as the words suddenly burst from her. “But that is not the woman who raised me!”

  Chapter Five

  A deadly silence followed Kenzie’s tortured outburst.

  Drawing in a ragged breath, Makenna stuttered, “Wh-Wh-What are you saying?”

  Kenzie shook her head in misery. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know what it means. But this woman -” she pointed to the picture “- did not raise me.”

  “Kenzie, mirrors don’t lie! We look exactly like this woman. She’s obviously our mother.”

  Kenzie did not need a mirror. She simply turned her stricken gaze to her sister, letting her eyes rove over features almost identical to her own. They shared the same facial structure, the same green eyes, the same generous lips and smile. The most obvious difference between them was that Makenna had auburn curls and was an inch taller; Kenzie’s long curly locks were sable and she weighed five pounds less. Both women were curvy, with generous busts, full hips, and long legs. And they both looked like the woman in the photograph.

  When Kenzie lifted a palm, Makenna immediately put her own up to touch it. By now a familiar gesture between the women, it was how they had first met. On the first day of college, they walked up to a mirror in the restroom and each saw her own face reflected beside her, wearing the wrong clothes and hair color. Turning in wonderment, they had touched their palms together. It reminded them each of a game they had
played as a child, talking to the girl from the mirror. That time, however, the mirror was alive. And from somewhere deep within the edges of her mind, Kenzie recalled the warmth of another palm, pressed against hers. Her first memory of the game had, perhaps, not been of the game at all, but of her sister.

  “Ken?” Makenna whispered, when her twin simply stared at her without reply. She curled her fingers to entwine with her sister’s and squeezed gently. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I-I have no idea.”

  “But what- who- who raised you?”

  A look of utter despair moved into Kenzie’s gaze. It echoed along the corridors of her heart. “I- I have no idea.” She dropped Makenna’s hand and got up to pace the room.

  “This can’t be,” Kenzie finally said. “It just can’t be. How could- how could she be our mother?” Her voice wavered as she clasped her hands behind her neck. “The woman who raised me was slim. Tall and straight and very slim. Stiff.” It was the best word she had found to describe her. “She was cold and mean, and she never, ever smiled. This woman -” she flung her arm toward the photograph Makenna still held “- is just the opposite. She looks nice. She looks happy. She looks lovable. That is definitely not the woman I lived with for fifteen years!” Her words bordered on hysteria as she paced frantically.

  “But this woman has to be our mother,” Makenna insisted in a whisper.

  Kenzie’s march led her into the foyer, where a mirror hung next to the front door. She stopped to stare at her reflection, reaffirming what she already knew. Heart shaped face. High cheekbones. A wide, generous mouth. Big green eyes.

  Exactly like the woman in the picture.

  “Mirrors don’t lie.” She echoed Makenna’s words with awe. She moved back into the living room with leaden shoulders, dropping onto the couch beside her sister. “This woman definitely has to be our mother.”

  Makenna was the first to voice the obvious question. “So where is she now? What could have happened to her?”