The Other Twin

by Nan Dixon

  That was a first. Usually she looked scared.

  “No harm done.” He handed out carpenter pencils. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” The kid started to run.

  Cheryl called, “Slow down.”

  Josh huffed out a sigh. “I want to draw a picture.”

  “Only if you follow the rules.” Cheryl and the kid knelt, blond heads together.

  “I wish Zach had slept over last night instead of Sunday.” Josh grinned up at his mother. “This is cool.”

  The sisters knelt on the second drop cloth he’d laid down. Their fiery red Fitzgerald hair gleamed in the harsh work lights.

  This was a bigger production than he’d expected. The sisters debated wording, Josh had his tongue tucked in between his teeth as he drew and Cheryl watched.

  Might as well get a cookie. Snickerdoodle. Snicker-doodle. Laughing drawing? He’d never remember.

  The crew hovered next to the treat table.

  “Hope you left me some crumbs,” Nathan joked.

  “These are good,” Jed said. “But I wouldn’t let these savages eat them all.”

  Jasper, one of the crew members, elbowed Jed in the ribs. “I told you to leave some for Nathan.”

  Nathan grabbed the last two cookies and took a bite. As good as he remembered.

  “Nathan?” A woman’s voice called from behind him.

  He turned, searching for the source.

  “Nathan Forester!” A blonde wearing a tight T-shirt waved from the doorway.

  He knew her. But the name wouldn’t surface. Was she a high school friend? Acquaintance? From some bar?

  “Hey,” he said.

  The crew watched with undisguised interest.

  He moved to cut the woman off before she entered the work site. “How are you?” Who are you?

  Her lips formed a straight line. “I’m Heather.”

  “Sorry.” Heather. Right. He shook his head. Wait. They’d dated years ago, when he’d first moved to Atlanta. “How did you find me?”

  “I heard you were working for your family. Some lady told me what job site you were at.” This wasn’t the pretty blonde he remembered. Her skin was ashen, her hair lank. She’d loved to party—hard. So had he. It looked like partying had taken its toll.

  When they’d been together, her long nails had been her pride and joy. She’d jabbed them into his skin more times than he cared to remember. Now her fingernails were chewed to the quick.

  He took Heather’s arm and moved out to the courtyard.

  “How long has it been? Three years? Four?” he asked. And why was she here?

  “Closer to five.” She shifted on her feet.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Looking for you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  She paced the path, the action jerky—nervous. “I’m sorry. Sorry.”

  He sniffed. She didn’t smell like she’d been drinking, but he’d always suspected she might have done drugs. “Sorry?”

  “I never told you.” She bit her thumb, her gaze darting around. “I didn’t know when I moved and then—” She shook her head.

  He rubbed his neck. He needed to get back to work. “What are you—?”

  “You’re a father,” she interrupted.

  “What?” The word whispered out. His heart stopped. Then started pounding.

  “You’re a daddy.”

  His knees gave out. He collapsed on a nearby bench. Daddy? He could barely remember being with her. “We used protection. Always.”

  “There was that one night.” Tears streaked her cheeks.

  Crap. “The condom broke,” he whispered.

  “Yeah.” She hiccupped. “Surprise.”

  “This isn’t funny,” he snapped. “No way am I a father.”

  “You are.” She wiped her face with her hand. “I should have told you, but I’d moved. By the time I knew, I was living with Thad.”

  “What do you want? Money?” He pushed off the bench and shifted away.

  She laughed, a watery, snotty sound. “No.”

  He let his head sink to his chest. “What?”

  “I...I have to get away. I mean go away.” She scanned the courtyard. Again. “Um...to treatment.”

  He pushed his hand through his hair.

  She clutched his hand. “You have to take Bella.”

  “Are you crazy?” A kid? This had to be a nightmare. Wake up.

  “There’s no one else. You have to.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’ve had her for four years. It’s your turn now.”

  He shook her hand away. “I don’t do kids.”

  Heather’s eyes narrowed. “Until she came along, neither did I.”

  “Why can’t—” words and names jumbled in his head “—whoever the guy you’re living with take care of...her?”

  “Her name is Isabella.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Thad’s gone.”

  Nathan swore. “I should just take your word this is my kid?”

  Her eyes filled with fire. She jabbed him in the chest. “I know who my daughter’s father is.”

  “I don’t. I need a...a paternity test.” The words exploded out of him.

  Heather waved her hand in a come-here motion.

  No. Fucking. Way. She’d brought the kid here? Each breath he took seared his lungs like a welding torch.

  “Nathan, turn around,” Heather said.

  If he turned around, it would be real. This child would be real. “I can’t.”

  “You have to.” Heather tugged on his hand. “Bella has no one else.”

  He took in a deep breath, turned and looked down.

  The kid had ratty blond hair. Her shirt was streaked with stains and was too small, showing a thin belly. Her shorts were grayish white. Wrapped around her shoulders was a blanket that might once have been pink.

  Brown eyes looked into his. Brown eyes just like his. Like Daniel’s. Shit. It was like looking at a picture of himself as a child.

  Heather knelt. “Bella, this is Nathan.”

  The kid didn’t say a word.

  He swore. “I can’t...” He waved his hand, words tangling and looping in his head. “Don’t...”

  “You have to.” A metal chair screeched across the stone over by the fountain and Heather jumped. “A little on-the-job training won’t hurt.” She rattled the words out like a nail gun.

  It might hurt the kid. What was her name? It wouldn’t work its way through the maze in his mind.

  Heather stroked the kid’s hair. “You’ll stay with Nathan. He’s your daddy.”

  Tears trickled down the kid’s face.

  Heather grabbed two grocery bags and shoved them at him. “Here’s her stuff.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  “I don’t have a choice,” she hissed.

  “But...” Nothing came out past the lump in his throat. Nothing.

  “Remember what I told you.” Heather knelt in front of the crying girl, pressed a finger to her lips and kissed her forehead. “Be good for your daddy.”

  This couldn’t be happening. His life couldn’t be...this screwed up. “Don’t.”

  She pointed at the bags in his arms. “Her birth certificate is in there.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t.” He turned to set the bags on the bench.

  Scuffling noises sounded behind him. When he spun around, Heather was sprinting to the side gate.

  “Stop!” He started to move, almost knocking the kid down. Setting her on the bench next to the bags, he stuck a finger in her face. “Stay.”

  Nathan dashed along the courtyard paths. Where was Heather?

  Tires squealed on the stree
t. He headed for the noise. She couldn’t leave...the kid with him. No way. Hell, he couldn’t even remember her name.

  A truck with blackened windows raced past him. He caught a glimpse of Heather through the cracked windshield just before she turned the corner.

  “Wait! Stop! How do I reach you? What’s your phone number?”

  His boots pounded on the sidewalk, echoing the hammering of his heart. His lungs burned, his legs ached. She couldn’t do this.

  She turned the corner. By the time he got there, she’d vanished.

  He swore. If words could form clouds, they’d have been black and thundering above his head.

  He trudged back to the courtyard. Each foot weighed a ton. What the hell was he supposed to do with a kid?

  The girl sat where he’d left her, staring at him with eerily familiar brown eyes. Tears washed her cheeks, but she didn’t make a sound.

  “Kid.” Damn it. What was her name? He dug through the first bag and pulled out a packet of papers. Flipping through them, he found what he assumed was a birth certificate.

  His name was in the middle of the page, next to what looked like the word father. What the hell?

  He scanned the jumble of letters. Belisala. No. He exhaled and tried again. Isabella. That rang a bell.

  He looked at the girl. He couldn’t take care of a kid. Kids were smarter than he was. He shoved his hat off his head. What about work? He needed every hour to make sure he didn’t screw up Abby’s restaurant.

  He was too stupid to be a dad.

  Mom. Mom would know what to do. Mom could take care of...Isabella.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHERYL SMILED AS Josh laughed at something one of the workers said. His belly laugh warmed everything inside her. The Fitzgerald sisters joined in.

  She inhaled. With Nathan gone, she could take full breaths again. She didn’t like being near big men. But the other crew members were almost as large and didn’t make her belly quiver like Nathan did.

  “Time to let the crew get back to work,” she called to Josh.

  “Mom.” Exasperation laced his words.

  “Miss Abby wants her restaurant built,” she said.

  Abby nodded. “But thanks for drawing that wonderful picture in the cement.”

  “I’ll grab the table,” Cheryl said.

  “Thanks.” Abby picked up the tray and the three sisters headed out.

  “Come on, Josh,” Cheryl said.

  “Mr. Jed said I could pour concrete.”

  She looked at Jed. “I don’t know.”

  “Couple of minutes?” Jed asked.

  “I guess.” She folded up the table.

  Nathan entered the carriage house and she swore the temperature shot up. Where was the woman who’d come looking for him?

  The men started to pour, letting Josh push the cement down the chute. Nathan headed to Jed and they talked in hushed voices.

  “I need to get back to work,” Cheryl called to Josh after a few minutes.

  “They need my help,” Josh insisted. “It’s summer vacation, Mom.”

  She tipped her head. “Now.”

  Josh kicked the floor but joined her. She could almost hear the pout in his footsteps. Nearing the door, she spotted a little girl with tears hanging from her eyelashes. “Are you lost?”

  The child looked around. A tear plopped onto her T-shirt.

  “Are you a guest?” Cheryl knelt next to her. “Where are your parents?”

  A silent sob racked the little girl’s chest.

  Looking at the men, Cheryl asked, “Is your daddy here?”

  The girl pointed at Jed and Nathan. Jed’s daughter? Why would she be at a dangerous work site?

  Josh inched back to the men near the concrete mixer.

  “Josh.”

  “One more minute.”

  “One.” Cheryl held out her hand. “Let’s see your father.”

  It took a few seconds but the girl put her hand in Cheryl’s and they walked over to Jed and Nathan.

  “Jed?” she asked.

  Both men looked up.

  “I wasn’t sure where you wanted your daughter to stay,” she said.

  Jed’s eyes went wide. “She’s not mine.”

  Cheryl’s mouth dropped open. She shifted her gaze. “Nathan?”

  “I...I...” His face paled. “I guess.”

  “You guess?” No one had hinted Nathan had a child. How could he be so indifferent to Josh if he was a father?

  “Is-Isabella. She’s m-mine.” Nathan looked miserable. “Her mother...left her.”

  She herded the child next to Nathan, but the girl clutched her hand, forcing her to peel the girl’s fingers out of her grasp.

  “Josh.” She backed away. “Time to go.”

  Her son smoothed wet cement. “Just a little longer.”

  “Now,” she insisted.

  For once Josh didn’t talk back. The man he was helping gave him a high-five.

  “Call if you need me,” Nathan said to Jed.

  She hurried to get out the door ahead of Nathan and his daughter. But Josh said goodbye to every man in the carriage house. Everyone except Nathan.

  At least Nathan and the girl were heading to the parking lot. She watched their body language. The little girl dragged her feet. Nathan’s shoulders were stiff as granite.

  Not her business. She had wine-tasting appetizers to prep.

  Nathan opened his truck door and lifted the girl into the front seat.

  “What are you doing?” Even though she should mind her own business, she rushed over. “Where’s her car seat?”

  Nathan rubbed his forehead. “Car seat?”

  “You can’t put her in the front seat. The airbag could...hurt her.” She grabbed Nathan’s arm. “And she needs to be in a car seat, otherwise the seat belt could injure her, too.”

  “Sh—” Nathan pressed his temples. “I mean shoot.”

  Josh moved beside her. “Every dummy knows you need a car seat.”

  Nathan glared so hard at her son, Cheryl put her arms around Josh’s shoulders.

  “I don’t have one.” Nathan paced a few steps away. “I just...”

  The man was pale. This didn’t look like a clueless father—he was too panicked for that. He looked lost.

  “Josh’s booster seat is in my car,” she volunteered.

  Relief softened his face. “Could I borrow it?”

  “It’s hard to get the clips undone. Just...take my car.” She dug in her pocket for her keys. “She might not weigh enough for that booster seat. You need to get the right seat for her right away. What’s her name again?”

  He dug through a bag and pulled out a piece of paper. “Isabella. Isabella,” he repeated, as if memorizing the name.

  What was going on?

  Nathan picked up the girl and carried her like a Ming vase. He set her next to the car.

  Cheryl hurried over and unlocked the door.

  Josh touched the little girl’s hand. “You have to climb into the seat.”

  The girl nodded.

  “Let me show you how to buckle her in.”

  Cheryl demonstrated, then unbuckled her and let Nathan try.

  “Thank you.” His eyes were glazed.

  “Why didn’t he know her name?” Josh asked as they watched the car drive away. “Is he stupid?”

  “Don’t call people names.”

  He kicked at the pavement. “But he’s dumb.”

  “I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

  The little girl hadn’t said a word. She wasn’t much younger than Josh. Something was wrong.

  Cheryl chewed on her thumb. Poor thing. But Isabella wasn’t her problem
.

  * * *

  “I’M TAKING YOU to your grandma and grandpop.” Nathan couldn’t believe the words came out of his mouth. A kid. Isabella.

  She didn’t speak. Just looked at him with her deer-in-headlights eyes.

  Hell. How old was she?

  “Can you talk?” He turned so he could see her.

  She nodded, tucking the dirty blanket next to her face. That was something.

  At his parents’ house, he pulled out the birth certificate. And stared. Father—Nathan Forester. He checked the birth date then counted on his fingers. He didn’t trust his brain. Four. He thought the kid was four.

  That made sense. It had been five years or so since he and Heather had been together. But his memory was as holey as a pegboard, especially under stress.

  He clicked open the booster seat latches. Isabella ignored his outstretched arms and scrambled out of the car. It was freaky the way she never said a word.

  “Anyone home?” he called, leading her into his parent’s house.

  The scent of lemons greeted them. “You’re in luck. Mom must be baking pie.”

  Isabella popped her thumb in her mouth and stared.

  His mom stuck her head out of the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

  He swallowed. How did he introduce Isabella to his parents? New evidence he was a screw-up.

  “I...I brought someone to meet you.”

  Mom’s gaze dropped to the girl standing next to him. “Who is this?”

  “Mom, meet Isabella.” His voice cracked.

  His mom looked between the girl and him. Her mouth dropped open. “Nathan?” she whispered.

  “Can you say hi?” Nathan touched the kid’s shoulder. Isabella shook her head.

  Mom knelt and brushed back the dirty hair covering her eyes. “Hey there, Isabella. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”

  Isabella nodded.

  Mom took her hand. “Let’s wash up and I’ll fix you a sandwich.”

  Nathan headed into the kitchen and went straight for the fridge. He pulled out a beer and popped the cap. Swearing under his breath, he took a big gulp, then another.

  “Put that down.” His mother’s voice was drill sergeant worthy.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because you drove a little girl here.” Mom helped the kid onto a chair.