Catch a Falling Star (43 page)

“Why wouldn't Sam tell me about . . . Stephen?”

“They haven't spoken to each other in years—since they were eighteen. It's as if they erased each other from their lives. I kept hoping and praying they'd figure out a way to reconcile . . . but it never happened.”

“Why would brothers—twins—refuse to speak to each other?” Haley pushed off the couch, the blanket puddling at her feet. She needed to walk. Think. She needed answers.

Miriam's reply escaped as a sigh. “Haley, it's such a long, convoluted story. What did Stephen tell you?”

“Nothing.” Her crack of laughter brought her up short. “I threatened to shoot him.”

“What?”

“I didn't know who he was. How could I?” Haley paced between the living room and the kitchen. She wouldn't find what she was looking for in either place. “Sam didn't tell me that he had a twin brother. I just wanted him . . . gone.”

“Oh, Haley, I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I called and told Stephen that Sam was killed. I thought he had a right to know, even if they were estranged. Stephen refused to come to the funeral—said it would shock too many people if he walked into the church.”

He'd been right about that. The strength that enabled Haley to stand, to not shed a tear, would have shattered if the man she saw tonight had walked into the church and stood beside Sam's casket.

“And then . . . well, it's been four months. I thought Stephen decided to leave things be.”

“You haven't talked to him since then?”

“No. We're . . . not close. And I didn't call him during the holidays—I just couldn't.”

Twilight Zone.
That was it. She'd been transported to a present-day
Twilight Zone
. There was no other way to explain the fact that she was widowed and pregnant, and that her husband's twin brother had shown up on her doorstep tonight, unknown and unannounced. And now her mother-in-law stated, “We're not close,” as if she were talking about the mail carrier.

Miriam's voice pulled her back to the harsh glare of reality. “The divorce—it did awful things to our family.”

“I have to go.” Haley walked over to where she'd left the blanket, picking it up and clutching it to her chest.

“Haley, let me explain—”

“Not tonight. Please.” Haley curled into the corner of the couch. “We'll talk tomorrow.”

“I'm so, so sorry.”

She disconnected without saying good-bye, but not before cutting off the sound of tears in Miriam's voice.

Miriam was sorry. Would Sam be sorry that the secret he'd kept from her had walked into her life, a living, breathing reflection of him?

Secrets. How she hated them.

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