Caycee hit enter without a second’s deliberation or rereading her note. The implications of this conundrum were staggering. It wasn’t possible, and yet, she’d felt the need to lay out two provable questions. If Jaynee and Caycee were really the same person, or are the same person, Jaynee would be the only one to know the answer other than her. No one else was in the room, and no one else knew her past.
She was over the past. She’d trashed it eighteen years ago when she threw away her life and made a new one in California. But if Jaynee married Jordan and never revealed this information, it would have been eating at her.
She felt stupid giving this ludicrous situation any credence. If Jordan were the culprit, maybe he would get over his obsession once he realized she hadn’t told him everything. Whereas all the other problems in her life were in most cases not self-inflicted, these two were, sort of.
Chapter Five
(Jaynee)
Jaynee blinked away tears, but they wouldn’t stop rolling down her cheeks. She did know.
Jordan had said her past didn’t matter. That as long as she never kept anything from him from that day forward, he didn’t need to know her troubled past. But she’d told him almost everything anyway … so he would understand her. She’d insinuated that she’d told him everything; when in fact, she’d withheld one crucial bit of information and lied about another.
She replied to the message with one word: Yes.
Slamming the cover on her computer, she stowed her gear and fled the Coffee House. “Oh, dear God. How is this possible?” Her life was a lie. Jordan might have chosen otherwise if he’d known.
The tears fell unrestricted; there was no one to witness her crying. She sat for a few minutes, attempting to pull herself together. This wasn’t possible; she needed to get a grip on reality.
She started her Expedition, pulled out of the parking lot, then headed toward home. But what if it was? Was it possible? If it was … how? How could two women live with identical names, exact birth dates, and she assumed a matching social-security number, in two different lives?
From the moment she’d met Jordan, she’d gone by her middle name. She’d never worked again, other than her writing. She’d published her books under her pseudonym, Jaynee Jordan. She’d never taken a salary; everything she made went back to her company to purchase needed items, research, pay for transportation and lodging, and for book signings. She’d only filed business returns. So it was possible in that respect, but scientifically, how was it possible? She couldn’t wrap her head around the absurdity of the situation.
Time travel? Maybe an older Caycee by a few minutes traveled back and reversed her decision to marry Jordan, as it seemed that that was the time of the separation between the two Caycees. Okay, now that was ridiculous. She was falling for this hook, line, and sinker, as her father had always said.
She drove onto her driveway, thankful that Jordan hadn’t decided to surprise her and return home early. What would he think if he saw her like this? She didn’t want to show him the messages or what she’d found because then she would have to explain the last message. Confess to him what she hadn’t disclosed all these years. Would he be angry? Of course he would. But he would still love her. Nothing would ever change that. Would he ever forgive her or look at her the same way again, though?
She sucked in a deep breath as she opened her laptop, awakening it from sleep mode. The page was still up. She hit the refresh button.
One new message: Well?
Jaynee glanced around the kitchen as if the answer would jump onto her keyboard, hoping she wasn’t the victim of some vicious prank. Or worse — completely deranged. Deciding there was no way to know other than to pose her own question, she rested her fingers on the keyboard and typed her reply:
I can’t answer that question over a message. But yes, Gram was the only person who knew, and she passed away four years ago. The other incident happened when I was seventeen. I never confided in anyone about that evening. I don’t even remember his name. But in his urgency to leave, he left behind something very expensive. Do you know what it was?
She felt foolish for being so cryptic, but if this were real, Caycee’s answer would provide genuine proof. After all, that degenerate never would have been able to find her, nor would he have wanted to after what he’d done to her. If Caycee could answer this question, she had to be authentic.
Walking away from the computer to disentangle her thoughts, Jaynee wore a path around the kitchen island, then let Brownie inside the house. Her boxer had been scratching at the patio door ever since she’d returned home. After scrambling through the doorway, the pup darted around the house in search of her Simba, then ran back to Jaynee, laying her fake kill at her feet.
Jaynee picked up the stuffed animal and threw it. It soared through the air, and Brownie caught it, then proceeded to pounce on the lifeless critter. Her boxer no longer needed a partner in her game. She’d be content to chew on her toy.
With a slide of her fingertips, the computer sprang to life. Jaynee leaned over the computer and stared at the new message, then slumped into her chair.
Caycee: He left behind a watch, which I gave to my next boyfriend, who pawned it for crack.
Jaynee: How is this possible?
Caycee: I don’t know.
Jaynee: Who are you really?
Caycee: I think I’m you … or, you’re me. Hell, I don’t know.
Jaynee: I’m scared.
Caycee: You would be.
Jaynee: Hey, that’s not very nice.
Caycee: I’m not a very nice person, Jaynee. I guess I took the road less traveled. And you, well, it looks as though you got Jordan and a family. How many kids … four?
Jaynee: Yes, two sets of twins, ages seven and twelve, one girl and three boys.
Caycee: Yikes! I’m not sure I made the wrong decision.
Jaynee: They’re great kids, and Jordan is wonderful. What do you have to show for your life?
Jaynee waited, but there was no reply. She guessed she’d offended Caycee more than Caycee had offended her. This still didn’t seem possible. She was talking to herself, which wouldn’t be such a bad thing, except for the fact that she was also answering herself.
Caycee: Can we meet?
Now she really was scared. How would that be possible? Caycee certainly couldn’t come here; Stanfield was entirely too small to hide two Jaynees. But she could go there, to New York. She’d been planning another book. It was a good reason for her agent to arrange another book signing.
She could promote her new book, and suddenly she had just the idea. She could write an excerpt, and they could print up a few copies and offer them with purchases. It wouldn’t be a sequel to one of her earlier books; it would be an entirely new idea but with the same characters.
Jordan wouldn’t mind; he knew she needed to get away. Of course, Johanna would be upset. She wanted to begin her classes immediately.
Decision made … she decided to arrange it. She would meet this Caycee in person and figure out what was happening.
Without over thinking her resolution, she typed her answer.
Jaynee: I’ll arrange it and get back with you. You can’t come here; I will go to New York. And please do not send me any messages in the interim. Sometimes Jordan needs to use my email. I will contact you as soon as I make the arrangements.
Caycee: I’ll see you then.
The first thing Jaynee did was delete all her messages and unfriend Caycee, hoping her mother had been too busy playing Farmville to notice her new connection. Not that she noticed much of anything she did. Her mother still didn’t know that she was an author. She assumed she was a book editor, since that was all she’d ever told her.
Next, she clicked on personal options and turned off notifications sent to her email — in the event Caycee decided to jeopardize her marriage. She’d actually sounded jealous. She erased her surfing history of anything that had Caycee’s name as well.
As a final
precaution, she set her email options that any messages arriving from Facebook or including the name Caycee go directly to her archived files, so they would never make it to her inbox.
Exhaling a deep breath, she turned off her computer. There would be no more surfing today; she’d already done enough damage.
It was still early, so she decided to call Jordan and ask if he wanted to go to lunch. Usually they met on Fridays, but he knew she was upset and probably wouldn’t mind taking off the time. She needed him beside her. She needed to explain her upcoming trip.
Not that she could explain what was happening. He would never let her go if she told him the real reason. But she would be as honest as possible. Not that she would have to lie … he would never ask …”So, are you planning to meet your alter ego while you’re in New York?”
It still felt as though she were being deceitful, as if withholding the truth had actually been a lie. But it didn’t matter; she had to do this. And unfortunately, she had to do this alone.
She decided to text Jordan. That way if he were busy she wouldn’t interrupt him. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to hear anything in her voice that he’d perceive as despair. Actually, she realized she hadn’t felt depressed all morning. A challenge had presented itself, like starting a new novel.
No doubt, she was scared … frightened out of her mind was a more accurate depiction. But she felt exhilarated, as though she were embracing a new project. She had an eerie contemplation from an old movie she’d seen from the eighties about time travel, though. What would happen if they met? Two matters couldn’t exist in the same area simultaneously. Something like that … or affecting the time continuum, which was absurd, since time travel was impossible.
Jordan texted back: Sure, the usual? :)
She smiled. He was incredible. She had to convince herself she wasn’t lying to him. She replied with a simple: Yes. Their usual was a mom and pop Italian restaurant that served not only Italian recipes and pizza, but also had plenty of American fare. The hole-in-the-wall diner was always busy. They catered to the countless construction workers in the area, as the road between Charlotte and Albemarle developed more and more every day.
In an effort to be as honest to Jordan as possible, she phoned her agent, explained the idea for a new book, told her she’d already typed about seven chapters — another lie — and asked her what she thought about appearances.
“That’s a great idea,” Crystal chirped. “It’s been much too long since your last release … and being a hermit doesn’t help with sales.”
She frowned into the phone. “I’m not a hermit. I’m on social media daily.”
“When’s the last time you’ve been to a book conference?”
“Umm …”
“Ten years! I send you the info every year, and you never come. For that matter, when’s the last time you’ve been out of North Carolina?”
She sighed. “Just a few years … but I get your point, Crystal. I asked you to set me up, so do it.”
“Bye, girlie.”
“Thank you, Crystal.” She hung up as she pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.
Jordan was waiting outside the restaurant, leaning back against his truck, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded over his chest. When he saw her, his mouth stretched into his breathtaking smile. Pushing himself off his F-150, he made his way over to her Expedition as she opened the door. It was no wonder Caycee was jealous, and the thought stopped her cold — she was already thinking about Caycee as a real and totally other person.
Chapter Six
(Jordan)
Jordan held the door open for Jaynee, taking her hand as she stepped out of her vehicle onto the gravel parking lot.
He backed her up against the door for a quick kiss, wishing he’d suggested that he just come home. But since she’d asked to meet him out for lunch, she probably had something she wanted to discuss and knew they’d get sidetracked at home with an empty house now that the kids were finally back in school.
“So, what do I owe this indulgence to?” he inquired, even though he figured it must have been because of their conversation yesterday. “Did you miss me already?”
An exhale masking a half-chuckle escaped her lips. “Yes, but I wanted to talk with you also.”
He knew her so well. “All right,” he offered, directing her to the restaurant. “This sure beats leftover pizza anyway.”
The owner-hostess gestured from behind the counter for them to select a booth. No pleasantries, as usual, but everyone who came here knew what to expect. Jaynee and Jordan were regulars, usually at least once or twice a week. There weren’t many restaurant selections in Stanfield.
Jordan smiled as Jaynee took the side of the booth with her back toward the door; she knew the routine. He’d always preferred a table as far to the rear of the restaurant as possible with his back against the wall. He would like to admit that it was residual from his military and police training, but the truth was he’d been like that his entire life. It must be an inbred instinct in males to protect their back, something most women weren’t naturally born with.
“So … what’s up?” He’d been worried about her. He hadn’t seen her like this in years, and he couldn’t believe it was merely a factor of turning forty. She looked great for heaven’s sake.
But he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He would never doubt their relationship as he’d done thirteen years ago, before his oldest twins were born. It was the worst two months of his life.
The idea of losing Jaynee to another man had pushed him to the brink, but not nearly as awful as the possibility of her dying. No words could explain that grief. He truly believed that if she had died, he would have too. Not willingly, of course, but of a broken heart. He was certain he would have withered up and faded away to nothingness, especially since her landing in the hospital had been partly his fault. If he hadn’t been drinking — he pushed the thoughts from his head. He didn’t want to revisit the guilt and anguish he’d felt.
But now, he felt a twinge of the same sadness that had gotten them to that point nearly thirteen years ago. Her lack of communicating that something was wrong, and he wasn’t sure what it was or if she would confess her true feelings. Although they’d always been honest with each other, he’d never asked her to divulge all the details of what she’d experienced before they’d met. She’d told him enough that he knew she’d been scarred, which made him respectful of her feelings for the most part.
He still slipped sometimes, he knew. Like when he’d accused her of wanting another man, knowing she’d dealt with her ex’s possessiveness before his reformed lifestyle. Even though he and Brian had become friends over the years, he’d never accepted his invitation to his wedding or visited him when they went to Florida. No way would he ever put his wife through seeing him again. Yes, he’d forgiven Brian’s actions, but Jaynee didn’t need to see him.
Before Jaynee could answer his question, their waitress appeared in front of them, pad and pen in hand, ready to take their entire order. They knew not to let the waitress leave once she made it to their table, and they always gave her their entire order. Otherwise, they’d get behind another table. The owners weren’t worried about offending their clientele. They served delicious food, fast, without all the hustle and bustle of other larger chain restaurants located twenty minutes away in either direction.
They placed their order without looking at the menu and the waitress was off, only to appear again to bring them their drinks and then their food and lastly their check. If they wanted anything else, they’d have to motion for her to come over.
Jaynee didn’t wait for him to repeat his question. “I spoke to Crystal this morning,” she started, then paused, obviously waiting for his reaction. She knew he understood what this meant. Now that they had children and he was no longer a detective, it was their only cause for discord in the family. Of course, they had their normal run-of-the-mill disagreements, as all families did, usually things about t
he kids. But they never argued, not anymore. And even though he hated when she had to do PR for her book, because he hated when she was alone in a big city, he attempted to control his reactions. She saw through him, though, he knew.
“Uh-huh,” he mumbled. A stiff, meaningless response. He hated that he could be so selfish, but if he lied, she’d see right through him.
Thankfully, she ignored his lack of enthusiasm and continued. “I have an idea for a story and Crystal loves it, but she wants to get me some appearances, stir-up some publicity.”
Her eyes were bright with fresh enthusiasm. She obviously needed this.
“And …” he pressed.
She busied herself with removing the paper napkin from around her silverware. “In New York,” she answered, but then quickly added, “but only for a few days, nothing long term, just a few appearances. What do you think?”
He wasn’t an ogre; she didn’t have to request permission, but he appreciated that she asked his opinion.
Swallowing his distress, he answered as truthfully as possible. “I think that’ll be great … for you,” he amended, hoping she wouldn’t hear the double meaning laced in his words, uttered only in an attempt at being truthful. He hated when she left. Not just because he missed her warm body beside him and her great cooking, but he worried. About her safety, about him not being there to protect her. And he hated New York the most. He would offer to go with her, but he knew she needed a break and time to concentrate on her writing.
“But not for you …” she said, exhaling, having heard his double entendre.
“Wait,” he countered, realizing he was entirely too self-centered. She had given up everything for him, for their family. She didn’t write nearly as much as she wanted, he knew that. “I want you to do this.”
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