Diane Burke - Double Identity

“Ms. Clarkston, I’m fixin’ to head out. We’ve done all we can do for now.”

Sophie wrapped her arms around herself and nodded. She looked pitiful. Fragile. Defeated. Alone. A man’s heart would have to be made of ice-cold steel not to be moved. Apparently, the sheriff agreed with Cain’s line of thought. He placed a comforting hand on Sophie’s arms and his voice softened. “This is a lousy way to welcome you to Promise, Ms. Clarkston. And I’m really sorry that you have to suffer through it.”

He stepped back and straightened his hat. “I’m planning on getting to the bottom of this, ma’am. You can count on it. And as soon as I get the chance to talk to your daddy, I’m sure we’ll be able to clear up some of the misunderstandings.”

Sophie’s shoulders stiffened. She offered a weak smile, nodded but remained silent.

“Meanwhile, I’m leaving you in good hands.” The sheriff gestured to Cain. “I’m sure he plans to stay here and help you clean up this mess. Isn’t that right, son?” Cain smiled. Son. He hadn’t been called that since his grammar school days. “Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’m on it.”

The sheriff nodded, signaled to his men and they left.

Sophie didn’t release a breath until she saw their cars disappear down the dirt road, spewing a cloud of dust.

“What’s going to happen when the sheriff discovers my dad’s information is fake?” she asked in a soft, unsteady voice.

“I imagine he’ll come back with a lot more questions.” Cain lifted her chin with his finger and gazed into her turbulent green eyes. “But since you don’t know any more than he does, you have nothing to be afraid of.”

“Right.” Sophie offered a tentative smile. “I didn’t do anything wrong and I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. You don’t have anything to worry about from the sheriff.” Cain gestured around the living room. “But someone is going to a lot of trouble to make sure you worry about them.”

Two hours later, Cain tied up the last of the trash bags and hauled them out to the shed. He could see Sophie leaning in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest, waiting for him to return. When he approached he noted a purplish hue shadowing the tender skin beneath her eyes and a deep sadness radiating from within her. The tears she’d fought hard to hold at bay all day slowly flowed down her cheeks. She straightened and her arms fell to her sides.

“Why is this happening, Cain? I can’t make any sense of it. Dad and I lived a quiet life. Minded our own business. I don’t understand why anyone would want to harm us.” She clamped her teeth together and swiped the tears from her cheeks. “I need to know what happened to him. And I plan to find out.”

Cain gazed at the petite five-foot-two bundle of resolve standing in front of him and he didn’t know how to keep his heart encased in steel—only that he would, he had to, no matter what. He couldn’t afford to make a second mistake. He’d paid too high a price for the last one. A wave of pain squeezed his heart at the memories and, rather than try to push them back into the closed little closets he’d created in his mind, he embraced the pain. The pain was good. The pain would help him erect a wall—and keep it there.

His gaze traveled up and down the length of her. Way out of her element, looking bewildered, afraid, still Sophie stood there, shoulders back, head held high, and threw down the gauntlet for him to step up and help or get out of her way. He smiled and shook his head. Of course he was going to help. As soon as he figured out how to find a ghost.

“Relax, Sophie. I told you I’d help and I will.”

He rested his head back against the porch column and took a few minutes to enjoy the impending sunset. The sun hung low in the sky. Brilliant colors of pink, lavender, blue and purple swirled across the sky. He wasn’t sure which was God’s most artistic masterpiece, the breathtaking sunset or the silhouette of Sophie standing on the top step of the porch.

“I wish you’d come into town with me.” He tried to keep his apprehension out of his voice. The last thing she needed was more stress today. But it didn’t feel right leaving her out here surrounded by woods and all alone.

“Don’t be silly,” Sophie said. “This is my home.”

“I know but…”

“No buts. The people who tossed my house are probably as dog tired as I am. They’re not planning on coming back tonight.” She smiled up at him. “Now, go. Seriously. Before it gets much later.”

He straightened but didn’t move off the porch.

“Cain, really, I appreciate you worrying about me. I truly do. But I’ll be fine. I’ll go inside and lock the doors and the windows the second you leave. Besides, your hourly rate and my budget aren’t that compatible.” She grinned the second he started to protest and then he realized she was teasing him about owing him money. She knew he wouldn’t think of charging her for this and had gotten the rise out of him she’d expected.

He grinned in return. “A man knows when he’s been defeated.” He bowed his head and then lumbered down the steps. He opened the driver’s door and paused before slipping inside. “Lock up. Immediately.”

Sophie stood and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Cain shook his head, slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

She watched the tail end of his compact car disappear down the dirt road. A grin twisted her lips. From the size of the dust cloud behind him, it was obvious his foot leaned heavily on the accelerator. For a man who hadn’t wanted to leave he sure was in a hurry now.

Sophie started to go inside but decided to steal a moment—just one, quiet, uneventful moment—and enjoy the twilight. She wrapped an arm around the porch post and stared into the distance. This was exactly the kind of night her father and she would have spent together. They’d have worked on their separate projects most of the day, come together for dinner, and then carried a final cup of coffee out on the porch to sit, talk, just be together.

Her throat closed up. Oh, Daddy, how could you do this? Instantly her mind jumped to thoughts she didn’t want to have and taunted her with them. Are you sure he’s your father? How do you know? You don’t even know his real name. How can you be sure of anything anymore? The emotional pain that swept from head to toe couldn’t have hurt more if she was being physically tortured.

She had lived her entire life believing she was Sophia Joy Clarkston. Sophie—the person who loved strawberries and thick cream. Who loved walking barefoot in sand. Who loved the change of colors in the fall, the smell of lilacs in spring and the scent of pine at Christmas. The same Sophie who loved to mold and create objects, animals and people out of a shapeless lump of clay. The Sophie who cherished the opportunities to sit on a porch swing or lie in the grass and count the stars.

If she wasn’t really Sophia Joy Clarkston, then who was she? And did everything she remembered, everything she’d done, everything she’d ever believed she was, now suddenly change because she wasn’t the person she’d thought she was?

A tear slipped down her cheek.

Oh, Dad! What were you thinking? Why didn’t you talk to me…trust me?

Over the years, she’d met many older people at the craft fairs that wished they could live their lives over. Start fresh with a clean slate. But Sophie wondered, if they were given that option, if everything they thought they were was gone and they had nothing—no family, no expectations, no memories—would they want their life erased as simply as chalk off a blackboard? She didn’t. At least she knew that much about herself—no matter who or what her real name would turn out to be.