“The job is an exciting challenge. We’re going to make great things happen for the company, which will expand the reach of your family’s new charitable organization, as well. There are good things on the horizon.”
Damn, he sounded like a PR piece. He extended a hand for Flash to sniff. He kept his palm open as the horse’s muzzle blew hot air into his hand. The horse relaxed even more.
Jack swept off his Stetson and wiped a wrist over his forehead wearily. “This isn’t the way I saw things playing out when we decided to merge the companies.”
“You wanted your son at the helm. I get that.”
And Broderick Steele probably would have made a solid choice for the position, except he no longer had the killer instinct.
“Or Jeannie’s son.”
“Really?” Ward asked in surprise as Flash let out a nicker.
“Maybe...” Jack nodded, seeming earnest enough. “But...”
“But not some stranger like me,” Ward finished the older man’s sentence.
“You’re a top-notch choice,” Jack said diplomatically. “I understand we’re lucky to have you.”
Ward noticed Jack still hadn’t admitted to being okay about the way things had turned out. But the guy had bigger concerns now, which could also account for his lack of ire. Clearly Ward wasn’t going to find out anything about Jack’s feelings for his dead wife. Could there be valid reasons for Brea’s suspicions? “I guess I should head back in for lunch. Which is the reason I came out here. Jeannie says they’re ready to serve.”
Jack gripped his arm, stopping him. “Do you really care for my daughter?”
“Whoa, don’t start looking at me as a future son-in-law.” Ward tried to pass off the conversation as lighthearted but found no humor in the man’s blue eyes. “No disrespect. We’re just dating.”
“I wasn’t renting a church hall. Just curious.” Jack turned over the hoof pick in his hands. Metal glinting in the barn light. “She’s still so closed up when talking to me.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” And Ward was.
The older man’s words struck a chord. Ward understood what it was like to lose a child. While his daughter hadn’t died, he’d been cut out of her life, and that hurt like hell every day. It was an ever-present knot in his chest that, on most days, threatened to crack his rib cage.
Jack cleared his throat. “She’s here. She’s alive. I can be patient as long as I know she’s okay and I can see her. That’s so much more than I ever imagined.”
Ward couldn’t even wrap his brain around how Jack Steele must have felt, believing his daughter had died.
That kind of pain was inconceivable. Suddenly the whole fake relationship with Brea stung Ward’s conscience...except in some ways, it wasn’t fake anymore.
They were lovers, for however long that lasted.
He needed to tread warily with the family patriarch.
“Jack, your respect means a lot to me. I’m doing my best to earn your trust.”
“As the head of the company or as my daughter’s boyfriend?”
“Both,” Ward said, because there really wasn’t another answer to give.
Too fast, Brea was filling his thoughts, and that could be dangerous for a man who’d vowed to make business his life. He’d seen his personal life go up in smoke once before, and he had no intention of repeating that mistake.
* * *
Brea regretted not signing up for meditative-yoga classes back when she’d lived in Canada. She could have really used the training on how to be mindful when her life felt out of control. To understand how to use her breath to quiet down her galloping thoughts and racing heart.
She could add it to a list of things she needed to accomplish. Skills to acquire to make it through this fractured life that was still so full of shards and questions.
A life that felt strangely surreal as she sat in the great room of Marshall’s home, formerly the Steele home, where she’d spent much of her life as a small child.
The towering ceiling and the railing around the upstairs hallway was so familiar—rustic luxury. Not that such a familiarity put her at ease or clarified a thing.
Fat leather chairs and sofas filled the expansive, light-filled room. She’d curled up in those chairs many times to read.
Rafters soared upward, dotted with skylights, as well as lantern-style lights for the long winter nights with her siblings, mother and grandmother.
One stone wall held a fireplace crackling with flames. Antlers hung above the mantel. The granite-slab wet bar overflowed with snacks and drinks. Voices hummed in the great room past the open French doors, leading into the main part of the house.
And outside the glass walls was the most familiar part of all.
She took a deep breath. Counted to three on the inhale. Pushed the exhale slowly out through her nose as memories surged forward.
How had breathing become so difficult?
Chunks of ice breaking loose in the water caused the family seaplane to bob. Her dad had taken her fishing in those waters. He’d insisted his girls bait their own hooks.
She could see tracks where others had ridden earlier today. And in the distance, she could swear she spotted a tree house just like the one she and her siblings had used as children. Her heart squeezed.
So many memories here, in this place.
She let memories roll over her, unprompted. Her uncle helping her onto a paint horse, teaching her where to place her weight in the saddle. Her twin sister’s peal of laughter and whispered secrets. Brea knew better than to let her eyes linger on Naomi, the toughest one of all to forget.
Losing her family had been hard, but losing her twin had felt like a limb had gone missing. On so many nights, she’d gone to sleep, seeking that connection twins had, reaching out to Naomi in her mind, convinced that Naomi would know somehow that Brea lived. A childish thought, maybe. But it had persisted well into adulthood.
Had her sister felt that same crippling sense of loss?
Silence stretched as Brea sat alone for the moment, taking in the view, this pristine beauty that stole her breath as fast as the man walking out of the barn and back toward the house.
So much had stayed the same, but the most important things had changed. The people.
It was still surreal seeing her siblings grown-up when they’d stayed frozen as young in what memories she’d retained, those images superimposing over anything she’d managed to find on the computer when she could sneak a search during unsupervised time.
“Hello?” A deep voice carried over her, one she didn’t recognize. She barely recognized the face of her youngest brother. He hadn’t even been in preschool when she’d...left.
She remembered carrying him on her hip, walking around the house with him like a baby doll in her arms.
“Hello, Aiden. I thought you were off working in the oil fields.”
“I got time off to see you.” He strode into the room, looking more like a lumberjack than her baby brother. He must be pushing twenty years old now, his hair dark and thick like all of theirs.
“You probably don’t remember me.” The words tumbled out of her lips even as the statement cut through her.
“I do—a little anyway. And Dad had us watch videos of you and Mom so we wouldn’t forget.” Aiden offered a small smile.
It was so strange to see him older without having watched him grow up. But that smile...she would recognize it anywhere. It was their mother’s smile. He carried that with him even after having lost her when he was so young.
“I should probably watch those videos.” It would be painful, but could also be helpful to have visual confirmation of her memories.
“Dad would like that.”
“Tell me something you remember on your own.” She found herself making the request before she could second-guess herself. Hearing things f
rom Delaney’s point of view had been gut-wrenching but authentic.
Aiden dropped to sit in front of the fire, his shoulders broad in a green flannel shirt. “Well, I remember winter camping in one of those glass igloos. It wasn’t cold, and the stars were awesome.”
The vision of the past was so vibrant, the memories almost stung. She remembered doing that more than once, the tradition stretching back to before Aiden was born. Had things been as idyllic as they sounded? Or was it all a re-creation of moments perfected for video?
She glanced outside again, at Ward, wondering if what she felt with him was as intense as it seemed or only heightened because of how upside down her life was. And was he with her because he was looking for some sense of family after losing his?
She stayed quiet, letting her youngest brother talk.
“At night, before bed, our mom sang some song about a bear cub chasing the Northern Lights across the sky. I thought I was that little cub.”
Brea remembered the night-light that simulated the same scene, but the rest was tougher to pull free from the tangle in her head.
Aiden stood, dusting off his jeans. “I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.”
“We’re okay. It’s important to get to the bottom of this. Important for all of us.”
“It would mean the world to Dad.”
She bit her lip, the ache of what was in the past being almost too much to bear. She didn’t want to break down and cry in front of him. “I don’t want to monopolize you. I’m sure everyone is eager to visit with you, too.”
“Well, I am sorta dating Alayna Mikkelson.”
“Really?” This family just got more and more tangled up, with her dad marrying a Mikkelson. Then her older brother Broderick marrying one, too. And now Aiden?
“It’s still pretty new, and we’re figuring it out.” He shrugged. “She’s been having a rough time lately—something about thinking she saw her uncle stalking around. Apparently he’s a real loser—a drinker and drug addict.”
Alarms went off in her head. “Is the uncle a Mikkelson? I thought Charles Mikkelson Sr., was an only child.”
“It’s their mom’s brother. Jeannie’s brother.”
Somehow that made it more chilling. But Brea didn’t want to tell Aiden as much when all she had to go on was her hunches.
“Thank you for talking to me and sharing what you remember about our past. The memories from you and the others are helpful.” Even if they made her sad.
Even if seeing her dad made her apprehensive, like she was betraying her adoptive parents. Or like she would be vulnerable if she opened up about the past to him. Maybe if her mother had still been alive, things would feel different. But even with the house looking the same, too much had changed, what with her father’s remarriage. Even Broderick had defected to the Mikkelsons.
Because she remembered very clearly how deeply the Steeles had hated the Mikkelsons. Her dad had labeled them crooks more than once, a strong opinion that had made it easy to accept her adoptive parents’ version of the past. That her wealthy and powerful family had corruptive forces all around them, and that someone obviously wanted the Steeles dead. In her mind, Brea had filled in Mikkelson culprits, knowing how fierce that rivalry had been.
But had any of that been true?
Maybe not. But just forgetting all of that enmity and accepting that their rivals were now some kind of family felt unsettling and even a little scary.
There weren’t enough breathing exercises in the world to make her okay with any of this. She had to get out of this room for a moment. To regroup.
Brea found herself searching for Ward, needing him at her side.
Six
Stabbing her spoon through her chocolate mousse again and again, Brea was full, done, finished.
And it had more to do with the people than the food.
She was on overload from what should have been a simple meal with her relatives. Coming here had been difficult, but if she didn’t step into the lair, she would never have the answers she sought.
Conversation hummed around the table, led mostly by Broderick and Glenna, the others following their lead in pretending this meal was just like any other. She’d hoped having Ward at her side would help, but the meal had still been tense as she sat at the long table the way they’d done in the past. But things never could be that way again. Finding a path to a new sense of family was easier said than done.
Aiden’s story about the camping trips had left her even more jittery, with too many memories of those outings flooding her mind. Many of them focused on her father, who now sat at the other end of the table. He didn’t pressure her, but she felt his unspoken need for more from her, for a return to the family fold, sooner rather than later.
Anxiety churned in her stomach, along with the king crab and the salad they’d eaten for lunch. She’d taken note of her childhood-favorite seafood showing up on the menu, and yes, she’d been touched. How could she forget those earlier memories of her dad cracking the shells to get the best chunks of meat for her?
This would be easier if it weren’t for the Mikkelsons. Her gaze skipped to Jeannie. The blonde woman gushed all over Jack, seeming like a happy newlywed.
Could all of this be real? No hidden agendas? No culpability from the Mikkelson clan?
Brea’s eyes went back to her father, who was currently holding a sleeping baby in the crook of his arm, one of Naomi’s twin daughters. Brea swallowed hard. Seeing those two little girls was...tough. Seeing the way the clan adored them was even tougher, piling more layers of confusion on her already difficult past. Seeing all that love she’d missed out on hurt.
Her throat closed up and she abandoned her spoon in the chocolate mousse and angled toward Ward to whisper in his ear, “Gargoyle.”
Ward pulled his attention from his conversation with Broderick and nodded quickly. Then looked at his Patek Philippe wristwatch. “This has been great, but I have a conference call I’ll need to take at the office.” He placed his linen napkin on the table. “Brea and I should be going. I have work to get through.”
Broderick inched back his chair. “A meeting on a weekend?”
Standing, Ward shrugged while waiting for Brea. “Just making sure your stockholders are happy.”
She couldn’t help but see the disappointment in Jack’s eyes as she left. Her father always seemed to have such unrealistically high expectations every time their paths crossed. She could understand. And she was trying. She just wished he understood her position, as well. Then maybe she wouldn’t feel so smothered.
She’d tried to explain herself to the Steeles in a statement she’d labored over with her lawyer. Doing her best to fill in the gaps for them with a summary of what had happened with her other family after they rescued her from the crash site. Brea had hoped the Steeles would see how tangled the truth of her reality had become. But what had felt like an outpouring of emotion on her end had apparently come across as terse and aloof on the other.
Another curse from her years away.
She wasn’t on the same emotional or mental footing as these people.
To his credit, Ward had made good on their safe word. He whisked her quickly and convincingly away toward the coatrack, which was flanked by family photographs on the wall.
Brea averted her eyes, feeling for her thick blue parka. Sliding into her coat, she smiled at Ward. The sound of her family’s laughter and conversation hung in the air as he passed her a wool scarf.
Just like that, the walls of her childhood home seemed to close in on her. Ward spoke in hushed tones to a staff member about getting his SUV brought around. She pushed past him, stepping across the threshold into the crisp night air.
An involuntary shiver pulsed through her spine in the frigid air. And yet the physical sensation was welcomed. As was the smell of pine and cold. Familiar smells. Yes.
But smells not completely tied to her past here.
The past she couldn’t quite make sense of as hard as she tried.
Behind her, she heard the door clicking open to reveal Ward. Warm light from inside washed over his black wool jacket. He yanked on a hat, shading his blue eyes from the sun, which was already sinking at midday.
Royce shouldered through the door before it closed, flipping up the lapel of his long wool coat as he stopped beside them, his gaze locked on Brea. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Sure,” she said, nervous and curious all at once about what her twin’s husband had to say away from the others.
As anxious as she’d been to depart and leave behind the pressure of all the family together, Brea didn’t have that same level of nervousness now. Speaking to Royce one-on-one—speaking to any of them one-on-one—was always easier for her. Fewer agendas to sift through. Less noise for her brain.
Royce bristled as a wave of wind tumbled through the Steele compound. His eyes were soft in the yellow-orange hues of the sky. “The Steeles are a great family. But I understand how overwhelming they can be in full force,” he said with insight. “Naomi and I are heading to North Dakota to check out the pipeline construction.” Royce was a research scientist, who was responsible for groundbreaking ecological innovations in the oil industry. “Chuck Mikkelson’s in charge of that arm of the operation, but you and Ward could both join us. You can still call it work, but it would also give you two some time away from feeling obligated to come to these family meals.”
For a quiet guy, he sure noticed a lot. Still, as much as she wanted to figure out what happened, she balked at the thought of going to stay on a Mikkelson’s home turf.
Her stomach twisted at the idea of spending time with any of the Mikkelsons. With her vision turning fuzzy, she took a settling breath. Focused her eyes on the tree line, where a few elk weaved around low-hanging limbs.
“Chuck’s wife has struggled with amnesia,” Royce reminded them, his breath visible in the cold air. “She may also have some insights when it comes to reconciling all the mixed-up parts of your past.”
The Secret Twin Page 8
