Two Much Alike

by Pamela Bauer

  She saw no reason for pretense. “I’m glad, because I liked what I heard.”

  He dropped his hands, shoving them into his pockets. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you these past few days and wanted to call?”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because this paternity stuff was hanging between us. And it’s still there, isn’t it.” His gaze pinned hers as he waited for her answer.

  “It doesn’t have to be,” she said, although she had to admit that she had the same apprehension he did—that somehow this mess would keep them apart. “What happened today—it isn’t going to keep us apart, is it?”

  He held her gaze. “I want to be with you, Frannie, but there isn’t just this paternity stuff hanging between us. I’m all my father has and he needs a lot of care.”

  He was telling her the future didn’t look bright for them. She swallowed back the lump of disappointment that threatened to affect her voice. “I admire the way you take care of your father. Actually, it’s because of him that I was even attracted to you.”

  “How so?”

  “That night of the storm when we first met…you looked like Dennis, yet you treated your dad with patience and understanding. The love you had for him—it’s what made me realize that there was no way you could be my ex-husband.” She smiled. “I guess you could say you turned from a frog into a prince.”

  “I’m no prince,” he said soberly, moving away from her. He went to stare out the window, deliberately putting distance between them physically and emotionally.

  “That’s probably good, because as you saw today on the dock, I definitely don’t behave like a princess,” she said, wishing she didn’t feel as if he’d just shut her out of his life.

  He gave her one of those half smiles that made her heart do a funny little flip. “Are you saying I’ve seen you at your worst?”

  “Close to it,” she admitted. “Pretty scary stuff, huh?”

  “I’m not a man who frightens easily.”

  She took his hand in hers. “Three kids would be enough to frighten most men away,” she said.

  He sighed. “Why do you keep bringing up the subject of your kids? Do I honestly seem like the type of guy who’d avoid getting involved with a woman because she has children?”

  She decided to be bold. “Are we getting involved?”

  He pulled her to him until their faces were only inches apart. “We shouldn’t be.”

  “Because you have to take care of your father.” She hoped that was the reason.

  “This isn’t a time in my life when I should be thinking about getting involved with anyone,” he confirmed. “Frannie, my life isn’t as simple as it looks. Things have happened that—”

  She quieted him with a finger on his lips. “I’ve made mistakes, too, Joe. We both have pasts we can’t change.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he began, only to have her quiet him a second time.

  “I know that you’re a good man.” She laid her palms against his chest, loving the strength she felt there.

  “It’s no wonder I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, bringing her even closer so that she arched her body against his.

  “You think about me a lot?” she prodded shamelessly.

  He chuckled. “Ever since you and your kids landed on my doorstep I’ve had trouble thinking about anything else.”

  She licked her lips. “You make that sound as if it’s a bad thing.”

  “Bad? Uh-uh. More like frustrating. As much as I’d like to be with you, I know I can’t.”

  “You want to be with me?” she asked provocatively.

  “You need to ask?” he said, moments before covering her lips with his. With a soft sigh, she pressed against him, matching his passion with her own in a kiss that left both of them short of breath.

  “The problem is, there are obstacles to overcome,” he said, pulling her fingertips to his mouth.

  “Like distance.”

  “And time.”

  “Kids.”

  “I told you they’re not a problem,” he said, giving her a quick peck on her mouth.

  “Can we overcome the obstacles?”

  “When you’re in my arms, I feel like we could do anything,” he said in a seductive whisper. “I’m willing to try. What about you?”

  For an answer, she kissed him long and hard. “I don’t know where this is leading, but I do know one thing. I don’t want to look back and regret that we didn’t find out.”

  “It’s going to lead to something good, Frannie,” he said huskily.

  She wanted to believe him. “I hope so.”

  “It will.” He lowered his head and was about to kiss her again, when the phone stopped him. He released her to answer it.

  To give him privacy, she stepped into the living room and stared out the windows at the lake. It looked cool and refreshing—exactly what she needed to cool her warm flesh. She smiled to herself as she remembered how hot and bothered Joe’s kisses made her feel.

  “That was my dad,” Joe told her as he came into the living room.

  “Is everything okay?”

  He nodded. “He’s just a little lonely. I promised I’d go see him.”

  She glanced at her watch. “And I promised my neighbor I wouldn’t be late. I really need to be going. What about the paternity test?”

  “I’ll make the arrangements,” Joe told her as he walked her to her car. “We can use one of the services that comes right to your home if you like.”

  She nodded. “That would be easiest. I’ll tell Alex it needs to be redone, but not the reason why.” When they’d reached her car, she said, “I know you don’t want to hear this, Joe, but it might be a good idea to look up your birth records.”

  He frowned. “Until we get the results of the second test, there doesn’t seem to be any point, does there?”

  She could see that no matter what she said, he was determined to believe the lab had made an error. As she drove away she couldn’t help but be filled with a sense of foreboding. She only hoped that no matter what the outcome of the next test, their relationship would survive.

  AS SOON AS FRANNIE had gone, Joe knew he had to do two things: call the DNA lab and then go visit his dad. The phone call netted him nothing more than he’d learned from Frannie. The lab stood by its results, which left Joe wondering if something that had sounded so far-fetched could actually be possible. Did he have a twin brother?

  He didn’t want to believe it could be true, but he remembered the night at the lake when Frannie had asked him his birth date. She’d remarked that he was born the same year as Dennis and even on the same day, but a different month. When creating his new identity, Joe had used the same day and year of his birth, but had changed the month.

  He told himself it was only another disturbing coincidence. As he drove to the hospital, he tried to recall if there had ever been any discussion between his mom and dad about the day he was born. Nothing came to mind.

  He could remember what his mother had said to him on his first day of school, how she had looked when she baked cookies, the way she had clapped her hands at his accomplishments, yet he couldn’t remember her ever talking about the day he was born.

  That’s why one of the first questions he asked his father when he arrived at the hospital was “Dad, you were there when I was born, right?”

  The Admiral was finishing his dinner, relishing the chocolate pudding on his tray. “Actually, I wasn’t. I was on duty. On a carrier somewhere in the Pacific.”

  “So Mom was alone?”

  “Oh, no. Your aunt Mary stayed with her until I returned.”

  “Was Aunt Mary with her at the hospital?”

  He ran the spoon around the edge of the cup to get every last bit of pudding. “I just said she was. Why all the questions?”

  He shrugged. “Just curious. I know I was born at the naval hospital.”

  “Yes, and it’s a good thing you were. Your m
other wanted to have one of those—” His spoon fluttered in midair as he struggled to find the correct word. “Those—” he sighed in frustration at his inability to articulate. “The women who help with the babies…” He looked at Joe for assistance.

  “You mean a midwife?”

  “Yes. She wanted a midwife to come to the house, but I put my foot down,” he said with authority.

  Joe knew there were few times in his parents’ marriage that his father hadn’t put his foot down to get his way.

  “I said when you’re in a foreign country, you use the medical facilities provided by Uncle Sam,” his father continued. “And it’s a good thing she did.”

  “Why is that?”

  He stared at him blankly. “Why is what?”

  “Why was it a good thing Mom went to the hospital? Were there complications during delivery?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The day I was born. You said it was a good thing Mom went to the hospital. Did something go wrong?”

  He set his spoon down and looked over the tray. “How come there isn’t any Jell-O?”

  “Dad, did Mom need special care at the hospital?”

  “Why are you asking me that? You were there. I didn’t want them to remove the machines,” he said, his eyes becoming glassy at the memory, and Joe realized that he had confused Joe’s birth with his mother’s death. “I shouldn’t have let them do it, Joe.”

  He reached across to touch his father’s hand. “You made all the right decisions, Dad.”

  He looked around the room. “I hate hospitals.” He sniffed. “It’s the smell. You have to get me out of here, Joe.” He turned woeful eyes on his son. “You’re not going to leave me here, are you?”

  “You have to stay until you’re done with the tests,” Joe reminded him. “Hospitals can be happy places,” he said, wanting to turn the conversation back to his birth. “Like when babies are born. I’m sure Mom was happy to be in the hospital when I was born.”

  “Oh, she was excited about having you, all right. Had your name picked out before she even knew she was pregnant.”

  “Did she talk about being in the hospital? About how many other babies there were the day I was born?”

  He smiled. “That was quite a night I missed. Your mother said they were coming faster than they could handle them. And then, of course, the power went out.”

  “The hospital lost power?”

  “Yes, because of the storm. It’s a good thing Mary was with her. Your mother always panicked whenever there was bad weather.”

  “Do you know if any twins were born at that hospital while I was there?”

  He didn’t answer, but simply stared at Joe with a blank look on his face.

  “Dad, did you hear my question?”

  A nurse poked her head in the door to ask how his father was doing, and the Admiral said, “I’d be a whole lot better if you’d get me some Jell-O.”

  She did as he requested, returning with a small cup of green gelatin. As soon as she’d gone, his father said, “Conscientious, that one is.”

  “That’s good,” Joe remarked.

  “Yes, the Navy could use more like her.” Once again, the Admiral looked confused. “Now, what did I do with it?” he asked, his eyes frantically roving over the tray.

  “What are you looking for, Dad?”

  “The…” He made a prying motion with his hand. Joe reached for the spoon on his tray and handed it to him. “Here’s your spoon.”

  He smiled at him. “You’re a good son, Joe. It’s too bad your mother’s not here to see how handsome you’ve become. She always said you were going to be a looker.” He pulled the foil top from the cup and dipped his spoon into the Jell-O.

  “Do you think I look like her?” He couldn’t resist asking.

  His father glanced briefly in his direction, his attention on dessert. “Not one bit. You’re a Hawthorn. You look like me,” he bellowed, which made Joe grimace.

  “Dad, we’re Smiths now, remember?” he said in a low voice, wondering if any of the hospital staff had heard his dad’s declaration.

  He brushed aside his comment with a flap of his spoon. “Yes, I remember, but I don’t like it, Joe.”

  “I don’t either, but it’s important that you don’t slip up and give the wrong name to anyone here at the hospital,” he cautioned.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake. I won’t,” he grumbled irritably.

  “I know you won’t,” Joe said, giving his father’s arm a pat, wishing that he didn’t have to worry the older man with such a concern. It was difficult enough for his father to adjust to the loss of his memory. He didn’t need the added stress of losing the name he’d been so proud to bear. Unfortunately, they’d had no choice but to use assumed identities.

  “You still seeing that Harper woman?” his father asked.

  “I like her,” Joe admitted.

  His father shook his head in reprobation. “And you’re worried about me slipping up. She doesn’t know about us, does she?”

  “Of course not.”

  “How much longer do you think you can carry on with her without her getting suspicious?”

  “I’m not exactly carrying on with her, Dad.”

  “When we moved here we made an agreement,” he reminded Joe.

  “I know. No women,” he said with a crooked smile. He’d thought with his father’s diminishing mental capabilities, that that promise had been forgotten, but it never ceased to amaze Joe how sharp his father could be at times.

  “I know you made sacrifices to move here.”

  “So did you. We made a choice, Dad. I don’t have any regrets.”

  His father eyed him curiously. “You better be careful with that woman.”

  “I will.”

  They talked a bit about baseball, the weather and what Joe’s flight schedule was for the upcoming week. When it was time for him to leave, his father said, “It doesn’t matter, you know.”

  “What doesn’t matter, Dad?”

  “What name you use. You’re still a Hawthorn. It’s in your blood,” he stated with an authority Joe knew better than to question.

  If there was one thing Joe was certain about as he left the hospital, it was that he wasn’t adopted. But just because he wasn’t adopted didn’t mean that he couldn’t be Dennis Harper’s twin. If there had been a bad storm and the power had gone out even briefly…

  He shook his head, trying to dismiss such speculation. It was all way too bizarre. Surely government red tape was thick enough to prevent such a mistake. Weren’t babies tagged with plastic ID bands as soon as they were born? If nothing else, his mother would certainly have noticed if they’d given her the wrong baby.

  No matter how hard he tried not to think about it, the possibility haunted him the rest of the evening. He wanted answers, yet he knew that finding them could spell tragedy for him and his father. If Frannie or anyone were to go digging into his past, it could mean an end to the new life he’d created.

  Joe had to hope that the second DNA test proved that he wasn’t related to Alex Harper, because he wasn’t prepared to sacrifice a man he’d known and loved all his life for one he’d never met.

  JOE HAD TROUBLE falling asleep that night. Unable to stop thinking about the results of the DNA test, he got out of bed and went on the Internet.

  First he read everything he could find about using DNA testing to determine paternity. Then he looked for information about identical twins and searched for case histories of babies that had been switched at birth. His father had always preached that knowledge was power, but tonight knowledge only made him feel helpless.

  Instead of returning to bed, he opened a closet door and pulled a photo album from the shelf. It had belonged to his mother and contained pictures of his aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents.

  Joe studied each of the pictures, looking for his likeness in any of his relatives’ faces. Other than the fact that they all had brown hair, he couldn’t se
e any distinguishing features that would identify him as a Hawthorn or a Delaney, his mother’s side of the family. Most of his cousins were older, which was probably why he had never noticed how little he resembled them.

  But it was his mother’s and father’s pictures that he examined most closely. Did any child ever look at his parent and see himself? He tried to remember an occasion when someone had commented on how much he looked like his mother, and came to the conclusion there hadn’t been any.

  When he’d entered the Navy he’d often heard such comments as “If you aren’t a chip off the old block,” and “Boy, I can sure tell you are your father’s son,” but no one had ever said he looked like his father. He glanced into the mirror, turning his head at different angles to try to see his father’s face.

  You’re still a Hawthorn. It’s in your blood. His father’s words echoed in his head. Were they true? Did Hawthorn blood run through his veins?

  It was a question he wasn’t sure he wanted answered. From everything he’d learned about Dennis Harper, Joe knew he wasn’t the kind of man anyone would choose for a brother. He was a deadbeat who’d run out on his wife and kids. What could Joe possibly have in common with such a man?

  Frustrated, Joe gave up looking for answers. There was one absolute in his life. He loved his father and would do whatever was necessary to protect his physical and emotional health.

  For as far back as he could remember, his father had been there for him. Although most of his friends had regarded the Admiral as a tough disciplinarian, Joe knew that behind the rigid military persona was a compassionate man who’d been both a mentor and a teacher to his only son. He was the one person Joe had turned to when he was troubled, the one he went to for advice.

  But today Joe hadn’t been able to tell his father what was troubling him. To do so would have caused the elderly man pain, and if there was one thing Joe couldn’t do, it was to seek comfort at the expense of his father’s peace of mind.

  As Joe eased his weary body back into bed, he may not have resolved the issue of his biological identity, but he did know that no matter what the genetic markers found on his chromosomes revealed, he would always be Joe and Kathleen Hawthorn’s son. No piece of paper would ever change that.