Two Much Alike

by Pamela Bauer

  “No. I want to get out of here so we can go to the police,” he answered.

  Frannie flipped the pancakes. “We’re not going to the police.”

  “Mom,” he said in exasperation. “It’s him!”

  “No, it’s not.” She punctuated each word with a jab of the pancake turner in his direction. “I ought to know, Alex. I was married to your father.”

  He came to her side. “I can’t believe he’s got to you.”

  “What do you mean ‘got to me’?” she demanded.

  “He’s telling you all sorts of lies and you’re believing them!”

  “They’re not lies, Alex.”

  “Why don’t we ask Gramma? She’ll know,” he challenged.

  “That would be fine if she were home, but you know your grandmother’s on vacation with her friends.” Frannie didn’t add that it was very unlikely they would hear from her, too.

  She thought she might have pacified him for the time being, but he didn’t look happy. He walked over to the phone and looked at it.

  “What are you doing?” Frannie asked.

  “Getting the phone number. In case Gramma wants to call and talk to them.”

  Frannie nodded, seeing no harm in his having Joe Smith’s phone number. She had no doubt that once she explained the situation to Arlene, her mother-in-law would confirm what Frannie already knew and Alex refused to believe.

  It wasn’t long before the Admiral returned. “You having a short stack, too?” he asked Alex, as Frannie set a plate of pancakes on the table.

  She watched her son glance from the table to the griddle. There was no mistaking the desire in those brown eyes.

  “I can make more,” Frannie told him, which made him pull out a chair. While he and Luke ate, the chain saws continued to buzz in the background. About halfway through breakfast, Frannie noticed they stopped. She expected Joe Smith to walk through the door, but he didn’t. Even after they’d finished eating and all the dishes had been put away, there was no sign of him.

  “Are we going to leave?” Alex asked, after she sent Emma to gather their things together.

  “As soon as I make sure the road’s clear,” Frannie answered. “You keep an eye on Luke, and I’ll go outside and check.”

  Frannie slid her feet into sandals that were still damp from the drenching they’d had yesterday. As she stepped onto the porch, she was struck by how peaceful everything was this morning. The rain had left its fresh scent, enhancing the fragrance of the pines.

  “Mr. Smith?” she called out tentatively as she rounded the corner of the garage. As she stepped onto the gravel road, she saw that all that remained of the fallen trees was a trail of sawdust. Frannie wondered what had happened to all the debris.

  “Mr. Smith?” Again she called out his name, but there was no answer. She walked a bit farther down the road, craning her head to see if there were any more trees down from the storm.

  “Looking for anything in particular?” The voice came from behind her and caused her to jump.

  Annoyed that he’d sneaked up on her, she said, “Yes. You. Why didn’t you answer me when I called out?”

  “I didn’t hear you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Today he wore a plain white T-shirt that emphasized the muscles in his arms. And he definitely had muscles in his arms. She forced her eyes to his face. It was familiar, yet it wasn’t.

  “What happened to the trees?” she asked. Dumb question. As if it mattered what had happened to them.

  “One of my neighbors hauled them away. He works for a logging outfit,” he answered.

  She looked around her. “Does this mean we can leave?”

  “Whenever you’re ready,” he answered.

  Relief washed over her. “Good.”

  She glanced at him then. He was anxious for them to be gone…and why shouldn’t he be? They’d barged in uninvited, created all sorts of tension. She knew that before she left, she owed him an apology.

  “I know you’re anxious to be rid of us, but before we go there is something I need to say,” she said.

  He shifted uneasily, his face becoming guarded. She didn’t blame him. After the way she’d lashed out at him last night, he had every right to be cool and distant.

  “I want to thank you for giving us shelter last night.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He continued to stare at her with those deep brown eyes, eyes that in the light of day she could see were so different from Dennis Harper’s.

  “And I also want to say I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said you were Joe Smith. I should have. I knew the minute you opened your mouth that you weren’t my ex-husband, and I should have listened to my intuition. Because of Alex and how difficult this has been for him, I let some feelings cloud my thinking.”

  He nodded, his face revealing nothing of what he was thinking. “Apology accepted.”

  “I think the only reason I had any real doubts was the fact that emotionally I was drained. Having Alex run off the way he did and not knowing what had happened…” She shivered at the thought.

  His face softened. “I don’t think there’s any need to rehash things this morning. You came here looking for someone, you didn’t find him, the storm delayed your leaving, and I offered you a place to stay.” It was obvious that he wanted to put it all behind him, too. “I do have a favor to ask you, though.”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “You’ve seen the way my father is. What he doesn’t need is to have some child protection worker come out here asking questions.”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t do such a thing. I told you I know you’re not Dennis Harper.”

  “It wasn’t you I was thinking would contact the authorities.”

  “You think Alex will?”

  “You yourself said he was determined,” he reminded her.

  She sighed. “He is. I guess I can’t blame him. He was only four when his father left. And you do look like him.”

  “What are you going to tell him?” he asked.

  “The truth.”

  “That I’m simply a man who looks like his father?”

  She nodded. “I think he’ll understand,” she answered, although she wasn’t as confident as she led him to believe. Feeling rather awkward standing there next to him wearing yesterday’s clothes, she thought it would be better to say as little as possible and get back on the road. “Well, it’s a long drive back to Minneapolis. I’d better go inside and get the kids.”

  He didn’t stop her, and Frannie felt a bit disappointed. She would have liked to talk to Joe Smith a while longer, to get to know him a little better. Then she chastised herself. And for what purpose? He was a stranger who looked like her ex-husband. That was all she needed to know.

  A short while later when she returned with her children, she found him looking under the hood of the old station wagon. Puzzled, she asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Checking your oil,” he said as he straightened, wiping his hands on a cloth rag. “You shouldn’t start out on a long trip without checking to make sure it’s not low.”

  “And is it?”

  “Down a quart.” He went into the garage and returned carrying a plastic funnel and a small bottle. He unscrewed the cap, then poured its contents into the engine. When he was finished, he snapped the hood back in place. “Done.”

  She stared at him, wondering how she ever could have ever mistaken him for Dennis. She must have been gawking at him, for he asked, “Something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “No, I was just thinking how very different you are from my ex-husband. Thank you for checking my oil.”

  “No problem.” He gave her another half smile, and she felt her heart give a funny little kick.

  “Mom, are we going or aren’t we?” Alex called out.

  “Get in the car,” she ordered her kids. They climbed in.

  Then she turned to Joe and said, “You’re a good man, Joe Smith. Nothing at all like Den
nis Harper.” Before he could say anything, she climbed into the car.

  As she drove away, all she saw in the rearview mirror was a strong, muscular figure standing in the drive.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ALEX WAS QUIET as they began the long journey home. Frannie knew she needed to talk to him about everything that had happened, yet she thought it would be better to wait until he was back in his own room where they could speak privately. When he didn’t mention the subject of his father once, she hoped it meant Alex had accepted that Joe Smith wasn’t Dennis.

  She was wrong. As soon as he stepped inside the house, he went straight for the telephone.

  “What are you doing?” she asked him.

  “Calling Auntie Lois.”

  “She’s not coming home until Tuesday,” Frannie said.

  “I’ll leave a message,” he retorted, and continued dialing.

  Frannie listened as he said, “This is Alex. I found my dad. Call me.”

  As soon as he’d hung up the phone, she said gently, “Joe Smith is not your father.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  “It’s what I know,” she stated firmly. She went over to him and gently placed her arms on his. “Listen to me. He’s not your father. He showed me his driver’s license.”

  “It could be a fake.”

  “It’s not a fake, Alex. You have to believe me about this. I don’t want you making trouble for Mr. Smith. His father’s not well—you saw that. They don’t need the hassle of strangers coming to their door and investigating their identities. Do you know how upsetting that would be for the Admiral? He’s confused enough as it is.”

  Alex thought about what she had said, his teeth tugging on his lower lip. She took advantage of his hesitation to press home her point. “Think about it, Alex. You saw how the smallest of things can upset the Admiral. Can you imagine what it would be like for him if the police were to show up at his door?”

  He still didn’t speak, but continued chewing on his lip.

  “All I’m asking is that you please wait until we’ve talked to your grandmother.”

  “Why? She wasn’t there. She didn’t see him.”

  “She’ll know whether your grandfather was an Admiral.” It was the only argument Frannie could use; it was clear Alex wasn’t going to listen to her deny that Joe Smith was her ex-husband.

  Again he picked up the phone. “Then I’m going to call Gramma.” He dialed and waited. Frannie knew there’d been no answer when he returned the receiver to its cradle, a look of disappointment on his face. “She’s not home yet.”

  Frannie gave him a hug—or at least as much of one as he would allow. “I know this has been difficult for you.”

  “I’m all right,” he said, wiggling away from her and then disappearing into his room. When Luke would have run after him, Frannie stopped him.

  “You come with me. You need a bath,” she said, scooping him up in her arms.

  “I wanna go with Alex,” he whined, but she paid no attention. After everything that had happened this weekend, Frannie understood her older son needed to be alone. She only wished it were as easy for her to go to her room and slam the door on the rest of the world.

  But time didn’t stop because a mother needed a few minutes to catch her breath. It just kept ticking away, filled with responsibilities.

  “I’m hungry,” Emma said. “What’s for dinner?”

  Tick, tick, tick.

  “YOU’RE BACK. Was it him?” Josh asked Alex the following morning.

  “It sure looked like him, but my mom doesn’t think it is.” He slid his backpack from his shoulders and set in on Josh’s bed. He unzipped the bag and pulled out two socks.

  “What are those for?”

  “You’ll see.” He slid a sock over each of his hands, then dug into the backpack and pulled out a metal object.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s a paperweight.” He set it down next to Josh’s computer. “See. It’s a ship.”

  Josh peered at it from several different angles.

  “Cool. Is it his?”

  “Yup. I found it in his room.”

  “You took it?” When Alex nodded, he asked, “Why?”

  “To get his fingerprints so I can prove he is my dad,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  “And how are you going to do that? You don’t know any cops,” Josh reminded him.

  “No, but my aunt does.” When Josh would have touched the paperweight, he said, “Don’t! You’ll contaminate it.”

  Josh chuckled. “Contaminate what? Fingerprints only work if the guy’s got a record. Your dad’s never been arrested, has he?”

  Alex frowned. He didn’t think so—at least, he’d never heard his aunt say he was a criminal, just a deadbeat. Maybe Josh was right. Maybe they didn’t fingerprint bad fathers.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said with more confidence than he was feeling. “My aunt will know what to do. She’s really good at locating deadbeats.”

  “You should have gotten a piece of his hair. Then you could have done DNA testing,” Josh told him.

  Alex hadn’t thought about that. Not that getting a strand of hair would have been as easy as slipping the paperweight in his backpack. Then he realized that he could have taken the hairbrush that had been on the vanity in the bathroom. Why hadn’t he thought of that? With the white socks covering his hands, he picked up the paperweight and returned it to his backpack.

  “So what was he like?” Josh asked.

  He shrugged. “He was just a guy.”

  “Was he creepy?”

  “Uh-uh. He was actually kinda nice. So was my grandpa. He lives with my dad. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him.”

  “You never met your grandpa before?”

  Alex shook his head. “He likes to tell jokes. He made me laugh.”

  “How come he doesn’t make your deadbeat dad pay up, then?”

  “I think it’s because he’s got Oldtimers’ disease or something. He gets confused a lot.”

  “So what are you going to do now?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m working on a plan.” He took the socks off his hands, stuck them in a side compartment of his backpack, zipped it up and then heaved the pack on his shoulder.

  “You leaving already?” Josh asked.

  “Yeah. I told my mom I’d be right back. And I need to talk to my aunt Lois and call my gramma.”

  “Don’t forget to ask about the DNA,” Josh said, as Alex walked toward the door.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get this guy yet,” he said, then headed home.

  “IT’S BEEN FOUR DAYS and she’s still not home,” Alex said as he put the phone down. “How long a vacation is Gramma taking?”

  Frannie knew that he’d tried calling his grandmother every day since their return from Grand Marais and had had no luck in reaching her. “You heard her say she has the entire summer off and she was going to make the most of it by visiting her friends.” Frannie understood his frustration. She, too, had wanted to talk to Arlene about Joe Smith.

  “How come she doesn’t call us and tell us where she is?”

  Good question, Frannie said to herself. She easily could have said, “Because your grandmother just does what she wants when she wants without regard to others.” But that would have been an answer uttered out of frustration. It was true that Arlene was a free spirit, but she did care about her grandchildren.

  Instead, Frannie said, “Because when people go on vacation they aren’t supposed to have to check in with their family. It’s their time to have fun. She sent us a postcard from California.”

  And another one came that very afternoon. Frannie read it to the children. “Hello family! Going up the west coast to see my friend Marcy in Seattle. Might even take a trip to Victoria. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Miss you all. Home in a few weeks. Love, Gramma.”

  “Didn’t she give a phone number for Marcy?” Alex asked, when Frannie had finished reading the postcard t
o them.

  Frannie almost laughed out loud. “No, there’s no number.”

  His shoulders sagged. “How am I gonna talk to her if we don’t even know where she is?”

  “She says she’ll be home in a few weeks.” Frannie tried to sound optimistic.

  He groaned. “By then he could be gone.”

  Frannie didn’t need to ask Alex to whom he referred. She didn’t think for a moment that Joe Smith was going to disappear, yet she doubted she could convince Alex of that.

  Lois arrived in the middle of the discussion and asked, “Why the long faces?”

  “Alex is missing his grandmother,” Frannie answered, not sure she wanted to discuss the subject of Joe Smith with her sister.

  Lois tousled Alex’s hair affectionately. “Hey, won’t an auntie do?”

  He just looked at his aunt and said, “Nothing’s going right,” then headed for his room.

  Lois looked to her sister for an explanation. “This isn’t about that guy that looks like Dennis, is it?”

  Frannie nodded reluctantly. “Alex just won’t admit he’s wrong about him.”

  “I know. He called me the other day and wanted to know about fingerprints.”

  “Fingerprints? What did he do? Take something from the Smiths’ home?”

  She lifted her brows. “He didn’t say. When I told him that it wouldn’t do much good to fingerprint this Smith guy since his father’s prints aren’t on file, he started asking me about DNA.”

  “Oh, good grief.” Frannie sank down onto the sofa. “No one can say he isn’t tenacious. You didn’t tell him how to get a DNA sample, did you?”

  Lois patted her shoulder. “No, I told him it would make more sense to get someone who knows both Dennis and his father to confirm that Joe Smith and his dad aren’t them.”

  “That would be Arlene.”

  “Exactly.”

  She threw up her hands in frustration. “Arlene, who’s impossible to reach.”

  Just then Emma burst through the front door, out of breath. She’d been playing outside with a friend, but having seen her aunt’s car had obviously come running.

  “Hi, Auntie Lois! Are you going to have dinner with us?”

  “That’s exactly why I’m here. How about if we all go out for pizza tonight?” She looked to Frannie for approval. “My treat, of course.”