Eyes of a Stanger

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  Tawnia balanced the crate on her hip and dug into her purse. “Look, here’s my cell phone. I’ll call in a bit to see how she is.” There was no phone at the bungalow; she hadn’t seen a reason to install a land line as long as she had a cell. If Autumn took off with it, she could always buy a new one.

  With this unpleasant thought, she hurried to her car. She’d better not get lost, or she would most certainly be late. She hated not having enough time. When you were directionally challenged, you always made sure to leave plenty of time for mistakes, a buffer for wrong turns or road construction.

  Worse than having no buffer, her stomach was terribly, achingly empty.

  • • •

  Autumn awoke to the glorious smell of something cooking. She couldn’t tell what, but the smell was enough to rip her from the fevered dream in which she had been with her parents at the fair. That she was only eight or so and holding both their hands didn’t bother her at all. She gladly would have stayed forever.

  The food forced her back to a reality she wished she could avoid.

  She wasn’t at the store or at her apartment, but she wasn’t sure exactly where she’d ended up. She remembered being with Bret. Was this his place? But no, she was wearing a woman’s red robe—not her own—and she seemed to remember a woman. A woman with her face.

  No, that had been part of the dream. Yet she was in the dream bed, wearing the dream woman’s clothing. How much was real?

  She should feel hot with the robe and blanket, but she was comfortable. Her arm wasn’t even aching that much, though the medicine had worn off. Just as well, she thought. Hydrocodone was dangerous. First it made her giggle like an idiot and think about kissing Bret, and then it made her so depressed she wanted to throw herself off what remained of the Hawthorne Bridge. It made her ask a total stranger not to leave her alone but to hold her hand until she fell asleep. Or had that part been the dream? Obviously, she shouldn’t use the medication, except perhaps right before bedtime. That was when her arm hurt the worst anyway.

  She stretched her legs out languorously, looking at her surroundings. There was a dresser, a plain, straight-backed chair, and flowery curtains that matched the bedspread. Pictures in mismatched frames covered much of the space on every wall, some looking very ancient, though absolutely clean. It was a tiny room but seemed larger because it was absolutely uncluttered. Autumn felt a rush of longing for the apartment she shared with Winter, packed with memorabilia from their lives and the many antiques she couldn’t bear to sell.

  The aroma wafting in from the kitchen made her stomach growl. When was the last time she’d eaten? Memory eluded her.

  Movement outside the door, and a heavyset woman dressed in red entered, looking flushed under the short, dark blonde, tightly curled hair. Certainly not the face from her dreams. “Oh, thank heaven,” the woman exclaimed. “You’re finally awake. Feeling better? I hope so. You’ve nearly slept the day away.”

  “I have?” Autumn tried to rise on one hand. The light coming from the window was slanted too low to be morning. Just how late was it?

  “Don’t look alarmed, dear. It’s okay to sleep when you’re ill.”

  “My father. I should be at the river.” She started to throw back the covers, but the woman clicked her tongue and drew them back over her.

  “Not in your condition, young lady. I don’t know who your father is, but he wouldn’t want that.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. For now, you need to eat.”

  Autumn’s stomach was going crazy.

  “I’ll bring you a bowl of stew. Stew is just the thing for a fever.”

  Autumn had to take her word for that. She could never remember if she was supposed to starve a fever and feed a cold, or feed a fever and starve a cold, so she always fed everything. Her stomach liked it that way.

  Before the woman completely disappeared, Autumn called out. “Wait. Did you hear if they found anyone else? From the Willamette, I mean. The bridge.” The words felt like sawdust in her throat.

  The woman returned to the room, her gaze resting gently on Autumn, who sat on the bed, her knees pulled to her chest. “The news said the Navy Seals found another body this morning.”

  “Who?”

  “They didn’t say. Except it’s a woman. Poor thing.”

  Autumn sighed with relief. Until she realized that meant Winter was still under the water somewhere, trapped, with all sorts of river life swimming by or even crawling on his face. She let her head drop to her knees, not meaning to cry, but unable to help herself.

  There was a hand on her head, stroking it comfortingly, just as her mother had done many years ago when she was sad or sick. Autumn took a deep, slow breath.

  “What is it?”

  “My father and I were on the bridge,” Autumn said, her face still buried in the blanket over her knees. “He’s one of the five that’s still missing—or four, I mean, now that they found that woman.”

  “Oh, no.” Other sounds of sympathy followed. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, dear. I don’t know quite what to say. It was a horrible, horrible accident.”

  Autumn nodded. Her tears had dried as suddenly as they’d started, and now she was feeling numb again. And hungry.

  The hand left her head. “You’ll feel better after you eat. My stew is pretty good, if I do say so myself. My husband said it was the best he ever tasted, but I never did know if he said it just to please me.”

  She didn’t seem to expect an answer, and Autumn was relieved when she left the room. She put the pillows behind her and settled back, wondering how she would make it to the river. She could call Jake. Or maybe Bret. Or even Orion. She had other friends, of course, but they seemed so removed from everything that had happened to her. She didn’t want to explain to anyone else why she needed to be there.

  The woman came into the room, carrying a bed tray with a large, steaming bowl of chunky stew. Beef, Autumn guessed. Baking powder biscuits sat on a small plate, and she was disappointed to see only two. She loved baking powder biscuits and could eat a half dozen at a single sitting, even if they were made of white flour. The woman placed the tray on her lap before sitting in the chair. The smell of the food was so wonderful that Autumn actually felt dizzy with anticipation. She didn’t care that the meat probably contained hormones and that the vegetables weren’t organically grown.

  “I’m Mrs. Gerbert, by the way,” the woman said. “You don’t need help, do you? I can feed you, if you want.”

  Autumn wondered how long it had been since this woman had felt needed. “Thanks, I can manage.”

  Poorly, as it turned out, since her right arm was immobilized in the brace, but the robe could certainly be washed. The chunks of meat and potatoes and carrots and onions were so good that Autumn nearly forgot Mrs. Gerbert in her eager attack on the food.

  “Tawnia didn’t tell me you were her sister,” Mrs. Gerbert said suddenly. “But I can clearly tell the family resemblance. You are definitely sisters. Twins, I’ll bet.”

  Autumn choked on a piece of meat. Her dream had been real!

  “Sorry, dear. Is it too hot?” Mrs. Gerbert jumped up from the chair and hovered by the bed.

  “No, I’m fine. It’s just that I don’t remember what happened last night.” And should she admit that she didn’t have a sister, much less a twin?

  “Well, that’s natural when you’re sick, but it’s good you have a sister to take care of you. Do you live in the area?”

  “Yes. I own an antiques shop in the Hawthorne district.” How weird to say the words when she felt so far removed from them, almost as though that life belonged to another person altogether. Her store had been so important to her, but suddenly she’d realized how meaningless it was. All the traveling, the objects, the research. None of it really mattered without Winter.

  I should be at the bottom of that river, not him. Not gentle Winter, who didn’t even use a car for fear of what it would do to the environment.

  She
was crying again, but she quickly shoveled in several spoonfuls of stew to hide that fact. It was hot enough to burn her mouth, and soon she was blinking with that discomfort instead of the other pain.

  “Go slowly. There’s more. I’m making a cake too. German chocolate. Do you like German chocolate?”

  Autumn nodded vigorously, her mouth too full to speak. This stew was the most wonderful thing she’d ever eaten. Of course, her perception after enduring the past week wasn’t completely accurate.

  “Anyway, your sister has already called once. She left her cell phone and number if you want to call her again. I’ll go get it.” Mrs. Gerbert left the room.

  Autumn didn’t want it. What would she say to this woman she didn’t know?

  Yet the connection she’d felt was still in her mind or heart or wherever it was. To this woman who looked like her, not to Winter. It didn’t make sense. Nothing did—especially why this woman had her face. No wonder Bret had been so confused.

  A piece of sky blue stationery on the floor by the chair caught her eye. Gingerly, she dropped her spoon and set the tray aside, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. Her head whirled at the movement, but she bent down for the paper anyway, shivering by the time she returned to the covers. Stupid fever, she thought.

  I’ve left clothes for you on the dresser, if you need them. Help yourself to any food you find. I’ll be home around six or so with dinner. I hope you’re still here. We need to talk. We’re both adopted, you know. Could there be a connection?

  I’ll take you to the river later if you want. And I’ll call immediately if I hear any news about your father.

  Tawnia McKnight

  There was something more after the name, but it was crossed out. Perhaps something Tawnia had decided was too personal? Or maybe it had warned Autumn not to make off with the china—if she had any.

  She re-read the note. Nothing personal, though there was at least curiosity. That makes two of us. Autumn was adopted, that much was true, but Winter and Summer had known her birth mother. They’d told stories about her and had even given Autumn a picture of her. Wouldn’t they have told her more if there had been anything to tell?

  Chapter 10

  Tawnia was late to work. Fortunately, there wasn’t a managers meeting and because she was late, she literally ran into a Mr. Lantis in the lobby who was from a billboard company. After making sure her laptop hadn’t damaged his leg, she began answering his questions about Partridge Advertising. Before she knew it, she’d invited him up to her office, and they were brainstorming ideas for the fifty-five billboards he owned throughout the city. He’d recently fired his graphic designer and was looking for someone to do his designs as well as his marketing so he could focus on other business interests. He was impressed with her ideas and promised the company the account on the spot. She’d have to go through the right channels, of course, but she knew from experience that the account was as good as hers.

  Eat your heart out, Dustin, she thought with satisfaction. Sometimes nice guys don’t finish last.

  During her lunch break, Tawnia did an Internet search on Autumn Rain. For fifty bucks, she could find out everything there was to know publicly. She typed in her credit card number, feeling slightly dishonest, though. She was only protecting herself. This woman was sleeping in her bed.

  Autumn Rain. No criminal arrests or bankruptcies. She wasn’t on a sex offender list and she didn’t have any claims against her, except several mortgages. The value of her apartment and store were shown, along with the addresses and names of neighbors. Listed relatives were Winter Rain, Douglas Rayne, Summer Evans, and Summer Rain. There was no record of an adoption. How strange, she thought. Autumn’s birthday was the same year as Tawnia’s and only one day later.

  Tawnia printed out the report for later study. Autumn was exactly her age, except for the one day difference. It was uncannily close, and Tawnia didn’t believe in coincidences.

  What am I doing? She groaned and bit into the sandwich she’d ordered from a delivery service. It was filling but not very tasty. And it did nothing to touch her cravings.

  Any of her cravings. She craved to talk to Autumn. She craved to be with Bret.

  No, I don’t!

  Sighing, she picked up the folder on the motivational speaker whose book they were working on. He’d be here in ten minutes, and she needed to make sure everything was in order. After he left, she’d call Autumn again and see if she was finally awake.

  • • •

  Tawnia’s meetings lasted until quitting time. She’d called Autumn once more, but no one had picked up. What could that mean? Had Mrs. Gerbert taken her to the hospital after all? Or had Autumn left the bungalow?

  Well, there was nothing she could do about it now except go home. First, she’d run over to Smokey’s and grab some meat pies. That would do for dinner.

  Yet after Smokey’s she didn’t go home. She found herself driving through the Hawthorne District, finally parking and asking directions until she was approaching the east bank near where the bridge had collapsed. Was Bret still working there, or would he be on the other side—or perhaps off examining some other bridge in Portland? He was probably enjoying himself, despite the tragedy that had brought him here.

  Putting on her sunglasses, she walked down to where yellow tape marked off the area where crews were still removing debris from the edge and from the river. There were several other sightseers ahead of her, and they were being turned away by the impossibly young-looking guard. Maybe she could ask him about Bret. As she approached, he smiled at her broadly. “I wondered where you were today. Hey, you did something with your hair.”

  Tawnia was wearing it pinned back because there hadn’t been time to style it that morning, but he couldn’t possibly know that. She’d never seen him before. Still, she smiled politely. “I’m trying to find a friend. Name’s Bret Winn. He’s an engineer called in by the county.”

  “You mean the guy you were with yesterday? He was here earlier, but he left a few hours ago. They pulled up some debris on the other side of the river that he wanted to look at. But your other friend is here. The fireman. I don’t know his name.”

  Tawnia didn’t either, though, she remembered Bret saying something about a fireman. Encouraged by the guard’s helpfulness, she asked, “Did the Navy Seals find any more people?”

  “Two more today.”

  She swallowed hard. She heard about the one woman this morning, but not about the second victim. Could it be Autumn’s father? “Who were they?”

  “I don’t know the names, but both were women. They found one this morning and one around three o’clock.” His expression was sympathetic. “Not your father. I’m sorry.”

  My father? Tawnia thought. Then she understood. This boy thinks I’m Autumn. The realization shocked her even more than seeing Autumn for herself.

  “They should find him soon,” the guard added. “And the other two. You can go on down, if you want.”

  She knew she shouldn’t, but obviously everyone here had given Autumn deference because of her father, and she was curious enough not to want to pass up this opportunity. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “You’re looking good,” the guard added as she passed. He colored a deep red. “I mean, I’m glad to see you look like you’re feeling better.”

  He’d noticed the change of clothes, probably, and the ten extra pounds she wore would make her look healthier. Tawnia knew a compliment when she heard it, but when did young boys become guards? Had she aged that much?

  “Thank you. I am feeling better,” she said.

  He nodded, and she could feel his eyes on her as she walked down the bank. She was glad that she’d chosen wide-heeled shoes with her maroon suit today so it was easy to navigate the ground. She thought of Autumn’s bare feet. Had she come here without shoes?

  Around her men worked with large cranes and vehicles and tools on massive mounds of debris, each intent on his job, but she noticed the wave of eyes that
drifted briefly her way. In the few faces she could make out clearly she saw pity. How did Autumn stand that? Maybe she hadn’t noticed.

  From the TV coverage, she could see they’d made good progress here, but even so there was a lot more to clean up. Huge blocks of concrete and steel lay stacked awaiting disposal. A barge full of debris floated near the river.

  She was within twenty feet of the water when a man broke away from some others and came toward her. “Autumn.”

  Uh-oh. She watched him saunter toward her. Was this the fireman? If he was close to Autumn, he would know right away that she wasn’t Autumn. She folded her arms loosely across her stomach in a defensive gesture. She smiled slightly. Maybe if she just stayed quiet, she wouldn’t get kicked out right away.

  He was a tall, strong-looking man, older than she was, probably in his mid-forties. His black hair was sprinkled with bits of white, and his serious brown eyes appeared to see more than she wanted to show. He was undeniably handsome and definitely within the age bracket of men she dated, though why her mind was able to note all of this while worrying about being discovered, she couldn’t say.

  “I just got word,” he said. “They’re bringing someone else up. It’s a man.”

  Shock must have registered on her face under the sunglasses because his arm went around her. “I’m sorry. But I’ll stay here with you. I know his description, so I’ll look first.”

  Tawnia’s throat was dry. She shouldn’t be here. She needed to get to Autumn, see how she was, and possibly bring her back. “I should go.”

  “What?” He looked at her as if she were crazy. “You’ve been waiting for this. At least I thought . . . Or maybe you’re still hoping he’s alive.”

  Tawnia didn’t reply.

  He put his hands on both of her shoulders. “Not finding him isn’t going to bring him back. Don’t you know that? Autumn, you can’t let them beat you. You have to go on.”

  Let them beat her? What was he talking about?

  “I’m fine,” she whispered.

  “No, you’re not. You’re in denial. When my daughter died, I couldn’t believe it. Not even when they showed me her body. My baby was gone. But you have to go on. That’s the way you win.” He was leaning toward her face, so close she could smell his aftershave. Her stomach fluttered. He was really good looking. Were he and Autumn as close as his words implied?