Split Decisions: A Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel - Charlotte - Book Two Page 6

  Her grandmother had insisted that there must have been something wrong with the fetus, due to the father’s excessive drug use. The doctor had agreed and referred her to a local clinic. She’d only been five weeks along when she arrived, not far enough that they would normally perform the procedure, but the clinic assented because she’d been so ill. Again, the nurse had suggested that there must have been something wrong with the fetus.

  She’d discovered later that it was natural to get sick; it was actually healthy. She could only ascertain that her grandmother had acted out of love for her and her hatred toward her ex-boyfriend.

  It was something she had to live with her entire life, but she hadn’t been able to admit it to Jordan, and based on Jaynee’s reaction, she never had either.

  Now thoroughly depressed, she finished styling her hair. What had made her relive all of that? She’d thought the past was dead and buried. Why had she met Jaynee and been forced to reflect on all of her mistakes?

  Locking the apartment, she took the elevator to the lobby. Joe hailed her a cab within seconds, and she was off to meet her fate.

  ***

  Recognized at once, the Maître’d left the host stand to personally accompany her to her usual table near the bar. Typically, he directed one of his three beauties to escort patrons to a table. But he always held open her table until eight and personally guided her to her seat.

  “I’m meeting my sister tonight, Paul. Do you have something upstairs, a little more private?” Jaynee and she’d agreed when asked, sisters could be the only explanation. “You won’t be able to miss her, but please don’t mention our arrival or our relation.” Caycee wasn’t worried about the Maître’d; they were very discreet here. As she handed him a healthy-sized tip, he nodded in understanding, then escorted her to a secluded booth along the back wall, far away from the railing, where most diners preferred to sit, so they could see who’s who as they came and went. Without her glasses, she could barely see across the table, let alone across the room, the reason she normally sat downstairs.

  Attempting to compose herself, she sipped her chardonnay and nibbled on a piece of bread while waiting for her guest.

  And then, she was there. Jaynee was actually standing before her. Other than the fact she had her hair pinned up old-fashioned like and was wearing glasses, there was no denying the resemblance. It was like looking into a mirror.

  “Hi,” Jaynee said softly, tears developing in the corners of her eyes.

  “Hi, yourself,” Caycee replied, looking around and then whispering conspiratorially, “or, should I say...myself?” She leaned back in her booth, a wide smile lifting her cheeks at Jaynee’s frazzled demeanor.

  While she’d spent the last eighteen years desensitizing her heart, Jaynee had been holed-up in the sticks of Stanfield—protected and loved by Jordan. The easy-going behavior Caycee once had was still evident in Jaynee, apparent by the instant glazing over of her eyes.

  Jaynee released the breath she’d been holding. “I guess maybe something like that. I think I need to sit.”

  “Be my guest,” she urged, gesturing to the booth.

  Their waiter approached as if cued; the service was top-notch here. She didn’t bother to look up, but emptied her glass of wine and pushed the glass toward him. “I’ll have another glass of chardonnay and bring one for my guest as well.”

  Jaynee lifted her eyes to the waiter, offering him a smile. “No, thank you, sir, a Diet Coke will be fine.”

  “But you love chardonnay,” she retorted. “Or at least you did.”

  Obviously torn between doing what his regular customer wanted and Jaynee’s assertion, the server turned to her for confirmation.

  She shrugged as a dismissal. “Bring her whatever she wants.”

  “A soda will be fine, sir. Thank you.” Jaynee’s eyes returned to her, still glistening, but they were wider, excited. “I have one more test before we proceed further. Since you’re wearing a skirt it should be fairly easy,” Jaynee said. “When I was sixteen, I got a scar that is still with me…on my leg…do you remember?”

  “How could I forget?” Caycee snorted. “It was a nasty burn. I dealt with it all summer. Every time I went into the ocean, it got all yellowish, disgusting. I had gotten off on the wrong side of Dad’s motorcycle and burnt my calf. The mark is still there.” She exited the booth, stepping around to Jaynee’s side, and produced her scar. Jaynee rolled up her jeans and compared their scars. They were identical. They were both faint, almost looked like a collection of freckles, but they were identical.

  “Where were we?” Jaynee blurted out.

  “You said that was the last test, but if you insist…we were at the flea market,” she said, grinning ear to ear. “This is fun. Give me something else.”

  Jaynee slumped back into the booth, and Caycee plopped back in her seat as well.

  “Okay…here’s one,” Jaynee started, “something I’ve never told a soul in my entire life other than my best friend growing up, and she would never—”

  “Rainey!” Caycee interjected.

  Jaynee waved her off, looking as if she might finally be relaxing in her skin. “That’s common knowledge; everyone knew we were best friends.” She leaned forward as if it were even more secretive than the other secrets they’d shared. “What was the name of the boy I had a crush on in eighth grade?”

  Caycee shoved Jaynee’s shoulder playfully across the table, pushing her back in her zeal. “Oh, my God! I haven’t thought about him in forever. Micah Giordani.” Her mind drifted as she remembered the chance she’d had to meet him. “Remember the skating rink… He’d come over to help me up after I’d fallen, and I’d refused his hand. I was such a loner…I hated when someone tried to help me. Rainey had been so angry that I’d refused his help. Afterward, I’d always wondered, what if? What if I’d accepted his hand? I guess I have a lot of what ifs in my life.”

  Just when she thought that Jaynee was calming down, the restrained tears that had been threatening overflowed Jaynee’s eyes. “How is this possible?”

  “I don’t know, but don’t cry,” she said sharply. Her tone was harsh, she knew. But what in the world did Jaynee have to weep about?

  Jaynee dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Sorry. I’m just more confused than I was. I guess I was prepared to encounter some enormous ruse. Some lavish, ‘you’re turning forty’ scheme put on by my agent and Jordan. This…this just doesn’t make sense.” She gestured her hand back and forth between the two of them. “What does it mean? What are we supposed to do with this knowledge? How can we go on living separate lives if we’re the same person?”

  Caycee shrugged. “Well, we’ve managed for eighteen years. I can’t see why anything has to change.”

  A long sigh escaped Jaynee’s throat. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I just don’t believe God would allow this to happen for no reason.”

  “God?” Caycee huffed. “Where does God fit into this? God doesn’t care what we do. We are free-will seekers. We do what we want, when we want… He doesn’t interfere with what we do, nor does He care.”

  Jaynee tilted her head, a look of authentic concern washing over her features. For a second, Caycee felt something she hadn’t felt in years. A connection…family…all of the things she’d left behind in Florida.

  Jaynee’s tilt moved to a slow shake of her head. “Wow… you’ve changed. When did you become so cynical?”

  Caycee exhaled heavily as she thought about a truthful answer. “I think...based on our current situation, it must have been eighteen years ago.”

  ***

  He watched the two women from his spot against the railing. Caycee hadn’t chosen her normal table next to the bar. She’d slipped the host a tip, then followed him up to one of the booths along the back wall.

  She’d glanced across the open expanse, but she wasn’t wearing her glasses, and he doubted she’d popped in her contacts. She’d never had much concern about who was around her, only who was right in f
ront of her. He’d swear that she preferred to stay blind, to never worry about making contact with someone until they approached her.

  Caycee had a friend today, an unusual occurrence. The woman was pretty too. Actually, very pretty, almost exactly like Caycee. Her hair was styled differently and she wore glasses, but the bone structure, the perfect nose, the exact shade of chestnut hair. He wondered if their eyes were the same color. No one had eyes the color of Caycee’s. Eyes that mesmerized him…kept him from concentrating on anything other than her. Eyes that had seduced him from the first time he’d seen her.

  And now, there were two Caycees? Well, not really two, obviously, her twin sister would have a different name. But the notion of two Caycees was intriguing. The idea of two of them—he curtailed the vision. It was a contemptible thought. Caycee wasn’t merely a physical attraction; she was more. Caycee was the one; she’d always been the one. There would be no rest until that day came to fruition.

  ***

  Caycee sauntered into the restaurant as she did every evening, only tonight someone accompanied her.

  Had she switched teams? Had she grown weary of coming here nightly looking for Mister Right? It was beyond frustrating. She could have any man she wanted. Why did she have to choose the one she did?

  Chapter Nine

  (Jaynee)

  Jaynee stared across the table at the woman who looked and sounded exactly like her, but who was nothing like her.

  Caycee had said her attitude had changed eighteen years ago. Obviously, she was referring to the day Jordan had proposed, which again seemed to be the onset of the surreal situation she’d found herself in. Whether the woman in front of her was real or a figment of her imagination didn’t matter. Clearly, her psyche had triggered this phenomenon.

  She suddenly remembered the day Jordan had proposed, just a week shy of her twenty-second birthday. She’d escaped to the tiny bathroom of his hotel so she could ponder in private. She’d struggled with the correct decision, knowing that everything she’d done up to that point had been the wrong decision. But she’d also realized that she hadn’t chosen many of the doors in her life. Most of her troubles had come about because someone else had shoved her through the wrong door, and she’d just made the best of her difficulties.

  Jordan had offered her a choice. He hadn’t pressured her to marry him; he’d simply asked. He’d even told her that she didn’t have to answer him…that he would fly down every week to be with her…that he wouldn’t give up on her. He’d seen something in her that no one had ever seen…that she’d never seen. Something that had made her want to change her life. She’d resolved to walk out of the restroom with a new life. With Jordan, or she’d move away and leave everything behind her, make a new life for herself away from all the memories of the past.

  She remembered the whisperings in the back of her mind that Jordan would hurt her as everyone else had. She had quieted them, shoved them aside, and had made a decision to accept Jordan’s proposal, even though she’d only known him four days. She’d trusted him, and it had been the right decision.

  Jaynee reached across the table and grabbed Caycee’s hand. “I remember. I remember feeling split in that tiny hotel bathroom. I had to make a choice between taking a chance that Jordan might hurt me or move to California and create a new life, where I’d never let anyone get close again. I remember hearing a diminutive voice telling me I couldn’t trust Jordan, but I did anyway. I walked out of the bathroom and made my choice, but I remember feeling as if I’d been split in two, as though I’d left a part of me behind.” She shook her head as she stared at the other half of herself. Real or make believe, it didn’t matter. Caycee was real to her. “I did, didn’t I? I left you, Caycee. I left behind all my doubts and cares. I made a choice to marry Jordan, but part of me…you…made another choice.” She chuckled at the madness. Not only was she looking at the other half of herself, she was talking to her…and it still didn’t compute.

  Caycee flashed a half-smile, then her face returned to the same tense look. “From everything I can gather, yes. That was the day. I went back to the house, grabbed only what I could throw in a carry-on, called a taxi, and headed to the airport, never to return.”

  Jaynee leaned back against the booth, shaking her head. “I’d always wondered where my money went. I didn’t have to spend any; Jordan paid for everything. But when I went to close out my account months later, it was empty. I argued with them, but it wasn’t worth the hassle of filing a report, so I’d let it go.” She paused for a second, remembering something else. “Hey! You took my favorite sundress. I loved that dress and never could find another one like it. It was in the hamper, since I’d worn it the previous day. When Jordan had the house packed up and my things shipped to North Carolina, I just assumed they missed some things.”

  “It was my favorite sundress, too,” Caycee said, a genuine smile lifting her cheek.

  “Touché,” she shot back. And it seemed as though Caycee’s expression had finally softened.

  “So, tell me what happened?” Caycee asked with fresh enthusiasm, her eyes bright with interest for the first time. “You said Jordan paid for everything, had our things shipped to North Carolina.”

  Jaynee gave the abridged version of their elopement to Vegas, their remarrying in front of his friends and family and her relatives, whom he had flown in for the occasion, oblivious to her. She explained their first five years of her finishing college and him becoming a detective and their constant argument over him quitting the force and her wanting to wait to have children.

  “But, what about the shooting…you were in a coma?”

  She bobbed her head. Caycee had done her homework. “Yeah,” she said, sighing, lifting her bangs and showing Caycee her souvenir from her gunshot wound. “Bet you don’t have this scar,” she offered, chuckling, even though there was nothing funny about it. “It was a series of events all leading up to me shooting myself after being attacked from behind. It was actually probably a blessing, because the man had actually been there to murder me. He would have probably accomplished his objective if I hadn’t shot myself on accident.” She had thought about that a million times since the incident.

  “But who would want to kill you? You’re so perfectly sweet it almost sickens me,” Caycee said, smiling wryly at her words.

  Jaynee offered a short laugh at her comment. “It’s a long story, but his brother-in-law evidently needed a substantial amount of money to pay his debts and escape a mentally abusive marriage. Brian was there and was thought to be a suspect as were several others, so I guess I’m not as loveable as I appear.”

  “Brian? The guy we dated, Brian?” Caycee asked perplexed. She evidently hadn’t thought about him for years, assumed he was in prison or dead, as she had up to that point. “He was in jail when I left.”

  “He got out and tracked me down. But he hadn’t been trying to kill me; he wanted to win me back, and at the hospital…again, a long story, he actually saved me. In conclusion, Jordan and he became friends, and Brian’s now married to a preacher’s daughter and has a position as a youth pastor.”

  “No!” A look of pure shock washed over Caycee’s features. “Wow…who would have thought?”

  “I know, surprised me too. I never speak with him, but I know Jordan has over the years.”

  A sincere, earnest gaze shadowed Caycee’s features as she leaned over the table. “So, tell me… What’s it like…being married to Jordan, having four children? Do you have any regrets?”

  Jaynee smiled. “Not one.” And it was the truth. Sitting here with Caycee answered every question she’d ever had. Not that she’d ever regretted marrying Jordan, she hadn’t. But it revealed that she loved her life entirely. She would never have wanted to be famous like Caycee. It certainly hadn’t brought her happiness.

  “He’s great, isn’t he?” Caycee asked, her eyes losing that momentary gleam she had only minutes ago.

  Detecting a note of sorrow in Caycee’s tough exterior,
she nodded. Her eyes watered up slightly for the loss this woman in front of her must feel. Even if Caycee was her other half, for whatever reason this had happened, she’d made her choice, but she’d made the wrong decision. And Jaynee felt sad for the part of her unable to experience the life she had with Jordan. Sorry she’d felt the need to escape the best thing that had ever happened to her. “He’s the best.”

  “Yeah, I knew it.” Caycee glanced around the restaurant, her eyes returning to Jaynee after a quick appraisal. “You know why this is my favorite restaurant? Why I come here practically every night? Because it’s the closest establishment to the restaurant where we met Jordan. I thought if he ever visited New York, he’d come here…or someone like him.” She seemed reluctant to proceed, but took a deep breath and continued, “You know how I found you?” The question was rhetorical she wasn’t really looking for an answer, so Jaynee just shook her head. “I was looking for Jordan. I Googled his name and found his Facebook page and business and then stumbled on the article about your shooting. I was shocked to see his wife’s name was Jaynee. It didn’t seem possible, such an unusual name. So I Googled your name, and voilà, here we sit.” She rested her hands in front of her.

  “You want to hear something really strange?” Jaynee asked. Again, it was rhetorical, and Caycee didn’t attempt to answer, but leaned closer. “That morning you contacted me on Facebook. I’d been Googling myself. I started with my pseudonym, married name, and then moved on to my maiden name. But before I could finish typing, your profile popped up. Which, stunned me, of course. I assumed someone nearby had hacked into my computer, and then you sent me a message. So…we were doing almost the identical thing at the exact moment.” When she said these words aloud, it felt too strange. She cleared her throat. “So…now what?”