The Other Twin

by Nan Dixon

  “No, sir.” Nathan wanted to crack off a salute, but being a smart-ass wouldn’t help the company.

  He found the key and held open the door. “What time was the inspection set for?”

  “Two.” The inspector walked in.

  Nathan peeked at his phone. He had two minutes, but he wouldn’t bring that up.

  He followed the guy around. It was like the inspector wanted to fail them.

  “You’re missing a ground default in here,” the inspector said, examining the kitchen.

  Nathan opened the door under the sink. “This one?”

  The inspector glared. “Right. Okay.”

  After that, he got pickier and pickier.

  Nathan sent Daniel a text.

  This guy is trying to fail us.

  At least, he hoped that’s what he’d sent. Texting was iffy. Even before he tucked the phone back into his pocket, it dinged.

  Anything need correcting?

  Not yet. Day’s young.

  But they got through the inspection. The man handed him the preliminary approval. “Next inspection, be on time.”

  “We will. Thank you,” Nathan said through gritted teeth.

  The inspection had taken so long, his crew was gone by the time he got back to Fitzgerald House. He left his truck there and headed to the day care on foot. He’d pick up the kids early. Maybe buy them ice cream. By watching the kids have fun, his mood might improve.

  “Mr. Forester,” the receptionist called as he came in. “The director would like to talk to you. Let me call her.”

  Now what? He swore under his breath. He’d written the weekly check—hadn’t he?

  “Mr. Forester.” The director came through the locked door. “Good to see you.”

  “It’s Nathan. What’s up—” he checked her name tag “—Sally.”

  “It’s Sarah.” She frowned. “Come on back to my office.”

  He followed her to a space that barely fit a desk, credenza and a couple of chairs. He could reorganize. By building shelves and getting rid of the credenza, they could use more of the wall space.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked, dusting his pants in case construction debris clung to him.

  Sarah laced her fingers together. “Are you aware of any traumas in Isabella’s life?”

  “Nothing more than what I’ve told you.” He leaned forward. “Has she talked?”

  “No. She did draw this.” Sarah opened a drawer, pulled out a drawing and passed it to Nathan.

  Red. A stick figure with red scribbled all over it. Black hair sprouted from the head. A smaller figure with blond hair stuck out from under the other figure. “What is it?”

  “We’re not sure.” Sarah rubbed her forehead. “I asked her if this was blood and she curled into a ball.”

  “Blood? Jesus.”

  “I know there isn’t anything physically wrong with her voice. She mutters in her sleep during naptime. But maybe you need to get her some help.”

  “I’ve set up an appointment with a psychologist.” He rubbed his eyes, but couldn’t push away the brewing headache.

  “Take this with you. Maybe the doctor can find out what it means.”

  He stood and had to lock his knees so he didn’t collapse.

  When he walked into Issy’s classroom, she ran and hugged his knees. He swung her into his arms and kissed her. Tears swam in his eyes. “We’re in this together, kid.”

  “You’re early,” Josh said when they went into his classroom.

  “Yup.” Nathan refused to engage. He had bigger problems than bratty six-year-olds.

  “Anyone want ice cream?” he asked as they passed the shop on their walk home.

  Issy bounced in his arms. Josh glanced at him, surprise making his mouth form an O. “Maybe.”

  In the store, they sampled flavor after flavor. Josh chewed his lip. “I’ll take Superman ice cream.”

  The girl at the counter piled a cone way too high.

  “Issy, what do you want?”

  She pointed to the far end of the counter. Then Nathan played the guessing game, pointing and describing until she settled on strawberry.

  “Make her cone smaller,” he whispered to the clerk. “And I’ll take praline-pecan.”

  Issy wiggled and he set her down to pay their bill.

  The clerk started to count out his change. “Wait. You gave me an extra ten dollars.”

  “Thanks.” It had been a hell of a day. He was surprised he hadn’t given her an extra hundred.

  They headed home. The ice cream dripped from the kids’ cones faster than they could lick.

  “Let’s sit in the square.” That way maybe their clothes wouldn’t be completely filthy before they finished their treat.

  Josh and Issy sat next to each other in the shade. Nathan knelt next to the bench, letting Issy taste his cone. It was a habit he’d always thought gross. Now it was natural.

  “What’s the drawing?” Josh scoffed, pulling out the paper Nathan had tucked into his back pocket. “Gross. Did you draw this? This is like baby stuff.”

  Nathan shook his head. He couldn’t do anything right in this kid’s eyes.

  “Issy?” Josh held the paper in front of her. “Did you draw this?”

  She nodded.

  “Is this what the bad man did?” Josh asked.

  What the hell? Nathan froze.

  Issy nodded, no longer eating her ice cream.

  “Then it’s good your mom brought you here.”

  Bad man? Nathan took a deep breath. “She talked to you?”

  Josh covered his mouth, but Nathan grabbed the kid’s arm. He knew something. “What did she say?”

  “Hey!” Josh fumbled his cone. Ice cream dripped on both of them.

  Nathan took a deep breath. “I need to know what the picture means.”

  Issy pushed her ice cream at Nathan, tears filling her eyes. She curled into a ball and rocked back and forth.

  Nathan jammed the mess into the garbage can. “Josh, did Issy talk to you?”

  Josh held out the picture and scooted off the bench. Even before Nathan could tuck the paper back into his pocket, Josh headed toward the B and B. “Yeah, she said stuff.”

  Nathan’s chest shook with the hope bubbling inside. Or was it resentment? Why would she talk to a smart-ass kid and not her own dad?

  He picked up Issy. “It’s okay, short stuff.”

  Catching up to Josh, he said, “I need you to tell me what she’s talked about.”

  Josh shook his head. “It’s a secret.”

  “What’s in that drawing shouldn’t be a secret.”

  “You can’t make me tell you. ’Cause Issy can’t talk about it.”

  She tucked her chin into his shoulder. So much for not adding to his problems. Cheryl had better make Josh talk.

  * * *

  CHERYL UNLOCKED THE apartment door, dreading another confrontation with Nathan.

  Maybe she’d been too harsh. But after tossing and turning most of the night, she’d decided it was better to forget the chemistry between them. She didn’t understand dating. Shoot, they hadn’t dated. They’d kissed.

  She took a five-minute shower, washing off the smell of sautéed onions. Since she needed to rescue Josh, she ran a comb through her wet hair and pulled it back into a ponytail.

  In deference to the heat and the window air conditioners that couldn’t keep up, she pulled on shorts, a bra and a tank top. It was time to face Nathan.

  “It’s open,” Nathan yelled when she knocked.

  She couldn’t live the way Nathan did, leaving his door unlocked. But she wasn’t over six feet tall with muscles as big as Josh’s and her waist combined.

  “We’r
e in Issy’s room,” Nathan called.

  She found Issy sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching Josh and Nathan.

  Nathan and Josh drew on large pieces of brown paper that had been taped to the bedroom’s windowless wall.

  Cheryl crouched next to the little girl. “What are they doing?”

  Issy just cuddled a stuffed unicorn under her chin.

  “We’re drawing pictures for Issy’s wall.” Josh bounced as he spoke.

  “You are?”

  “It’s a mur-mur—” Josh looked at Nathan.

  “Mural. A drawing on the wall.” Nathan tipped his head but never looked at her.

  “Isn’t Issy helping?” Cheryl asked.

  “I hope she will.” His eyes finally locked on hers. “Maybe you want to look at the picture she drew at school. It’s in the kitchen.”

  Her head spun in confusion. Why would a picture make Nathan look so serious?

  “Do you want to come with me?” she asked, but Issy pointed at the wall.

  In the kitchen, a plate with apples and string cheese sat on the counter next to a turned-over piece of paper.

  She flipped it over. Red. On a...a...person? She couldn’t tell whether the stick figure was male or female. Her stomach churned. What had Issy drawn?

  A small figure with yellow hair stuck out from the figure covered in red crayon. She didn’t want to say blood. She didn’t want to acknowledge what this could be.

  Cheryl turned the paper over again, not wanting to look at the gruesome picture. Setting her hands on the counter, she exhaled. If only Issy would talk.

  Heavy footsteps moved down the hall and into the kitchen. Nathan.

  “That’s...awful.” She shook her head.

  “I know.” He stopped behind her.

  She caught his scent, her body melting. She gripped the counter so she wouldn’t turn around and pull him into a hug. “I don’t suppose she said anything?”

  He snorted. Even though Cheryl couldn’t see him, she pictured him shaking his head.

  “Not to me.” He touched her shoulder. “She talked to Josh.”

  “Josh?” She spun around.

  Nathan’s face could have been carved from rock. “Yes.”

  “She talked to Josh?” She couldn’t take it in. “That’s good.”

  “Did you see the picture?” He paced to the stove and then back. “What four-year-old draws something like that?”

  Her hand covered her mouth. “After Levi hurt Josh, his pictures got pretty dark.”

  “Like this?” He shook the paper.

  “No.” Cheryl leaned against the counter. “What did she tell him?”

  He stepped closer, his hands resting on the counter on each side of her waist. “Josh won’t tell me.”

  “He wouldn’t tell you what Issy said?”

  “It’s a secret.” He leaned in, his eyes sparking with unyielding determination. “I need you to get him to talk.”

  She shivered. This wasn’t the man who’d kissed her. Every muscle was frozen and she was back in Mama’s apartment, not knowing where to run. Did she flee outside or into her bedroom with no lock? Mama’s latest boyfriend might catch her in the hall. She didn’t like the way the man looked at her, as if she was naked. Or did she face Mama’s drunken wrath? Mama was probably the lesser of two evils. She would just shake her.

  “Cheryl.” Nathan voice was a low growl. “Will you talk to your son?”

  She pulled up her trembling hands and pushed him back so he didn’t loom over her.

  “Hey.” Nathan reached out to touch her but she jerked away from him. “Where did you go?”

  She held up her hand, trying to control her body.

  “I...I didn’t mean to scare you.” Nathan eased away, bouncing a fist off his forehead.

  “’S’okay.” She was proud she didn’t stutter.

  Nathan let out a sigh. “Someday you’ll tell me why you’re afraid.”

  She didn’t say anything. She’d never told Brad. He’d guessed Mama had hit her. Guessed she’d been afraid of one or two of Mama’s boyfriends.

  Living with Mama had made her afraid to move. Because if Mama had to chase her, the hits were harder.

  She pushed away the past. “I’ll...I’ll talk to Josh.”

  As she brushed past Nathan, he caught her hand. “I need to know.”

  “I understand. Your child is more important than anything, even...” She trailed off.

  He paused, looking at her for a long minute. Then he nodded. Maybe he understood. She’d sacrificed a relationship with Nathan for Josh’s well-being.

  * * *

  AT BEDTIME NATHAN tried again. He held the awful drawing. “Can you tell me what the picture is about, short stuff?”

  Issy stared at her bright pink comforter and shook her head.

  “Whatever you say, I’ll believe you. You can tell me everything. Anything. Please.”

  She picked at the bow on her bear’s neck, not looking at him.

  “No one will ever hurt you,” he promised.

  But was that true? What would happen when Heather came back? How would he protect her then?

  Tears dripped down Issy’s face. She threw her arms around him.

  “I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered. An ache filled his chest. Somehow he would keep that promise. Setting Issy back onto her pillow, he brushed a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll protect you.”

  Once he left her room, he tucked the drawing in a file. That foul thing wasn’t going on the fridge. After opening a beer, he puttered around the apartment. Paid a couple of bills. Put Issy’s toys in the toy box he and Pop had built.

  Because he was thinking of Pop, he called his parents in Texas. “How’s this treatment going?”

  “About the same.” Weariness filled his mother’s voice. “The nausea keeps him from eating, but I force protein shakes down his throat.” Mom sighed. “He’s sleeping.”

  “He’s in bed already?” It was just after seven in Texas.

  “He was worn out from pushing around his dinner.”

  Nathan laughed at her sad joke.

  “How’s my granddaughter? I loved the photo you sent yesterday.”

  “She’s good. Just went to sleep.” He’d wanted to talk through his fears with his parents, but they were dealing with their own problems. He took a deep drink of his beer. Maybe he should call Daniel.

  A month ago that thought would not have crossed his mind.

  “Is she talking yet?” Mom asked.

  Nathan walked her through their visit with the pediatrician. “Josh says she talks to him. I’m hopeful.” Hopeful he could find out why she was afraid.

  “That’s a start.” His mom yawned loudly enough for him to hear. “Send more pictures.”

  “I will. Are you getting any sleep?”

  “A bit. But your father tosses and turns.”

  Why couldn’t life be easy? Maybe this was what normal was like.

  After saying good-night to his mom, Nathan shut off his phone and finished the beer, tossing the empty bottle. The recycling was full, so he grabbed Issy’s monitor and took the bag down to the can.

  Two couples sat at a courtyard table, sipping wine and laughing, a half-empty bottle on the table between them.

  A longing for something normal like a night out drinking with a pretty woman walloped him. He and Cheryl might have been able to have something like that. Except for Josh.

  He stuffed the bag into the container a little harder than he should. Nothing but static came through the monitor, so he headed up the outside steps to Cheryl’s place. She hadn’t told him to stop using their kitchen door, but he’d gotten the stay away message this morning.

  Through the living room
window, he saw lights on in the kitchen. He knocked. Not hard, because Josh would be in bed. He waited. Nothing.

  He turned to leave, but stopped himself. Issy was important. Finding out what she’d said to Josh couldn’t wait.

  He knocked louder.

  This time he heard footsteps. He steeled himself. When Cheryl had walked into his apartment earlier, he’d wanted to rush over and hug her. That wasn’t happening. He’d never hold her again.

  The footsteps paused at the door. Then the chain slid and the lock clicked open. Shoot. The sound reminded him that he hadn’t locked his door. Someone would have to go through the interior of the carriage house, but still... Issy was alone.

  He had to trust that he’d hear if anyone went in.

  “Hi.” Cheryl held the door open and he walked in. She gestured to the living room.

  “Could we talk in the kitchen? I want to open the door to listen for Issy.”

  Cheryl nodded and led the way into the kitchen. It was wrong, but he watched her butt.

  Throwing open the lock and propping the door open, she asked, “She’s in there alone?”

  Her accusation was like ice water, cooling his attraction. She still didn’t believe he was a good parent.

  “I had to take out the recycling.” He patted the monitor. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done the same thing the evening she’d helped him measure the restaurant space. “Did Josh tell you anything?”

  She nodded, pulling out a chair. “I think you should sit.”

  He couldn’t. Instead, he grabbed her arms. “Was she molested? Please tell me she wasn’t hurt.”

  “I’m sorry.” She touched his cheek.

  “God.” Who could do that to a child? “I’ll kill whoever touched her.”

  “No. No.” She pulled his hands from her arms and held them. “She wasn’t molested. Not that she told Josh.”

  She led him to a chair. His heart beat as fast as a cement mixer. “What did he say?”

  She sat facing him, still holding his hands. Her willingness to touch him should have made him happy. Instead he couldn’t breathe.

  “Bear in mind that this is coming from a four-year-old, interpreted by a six-year-old. From what Josh said, the man with the blood is her other papa.”

  Other papa? Nathan hadn’t known his heart could hurt any more than it did. “Okay.” He drew the word out.