Light from Her Mirror (Mirrors Don't Lie Book 3) (4 page)

A
deadly silence followed Kenzie’s tortured outburst.

Drawing
in a ragged breath, Makenna stuttered, “Wh-Wh-What are you saying?”

Kenzie
shook her head in misery. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t
know what it means. But this woman -” she pointed to the picture “- did not
raise me.”

“Kenzie,
mirrors don’t lie! We look exactly like this woman. She’s obviously our
mother.”

Kenzie
did not need a mirror. She simply turned her stricken gaze to her sister,
letting her eyes rove over features almost identical to her own. They shared
the same facial structure, the same green eyes, the same generous lips and
smile. The most obvious difference between them was that Makenna had auburn
curls and was an inch taller; Kenzie’s long curly locks were sable and she
weighed five pounds less. Both women were curvy, with generous busts, full
hips, and long legs. And they both looked like the woman in the photograph.

When
Kenzie lifted a palm, Makenna immediately put her own up to touch it. By now a
familiar gesture between the women, it was how they had first met. On the first
day of college, they walked up to a mirror in the restroom and each saw her own
face reflected beside her, wearing the wrong clothes and hair color. Turning in
wonderment, they had touched their palms together. It reminded them each of a
game they had played as a child, talking to the girl from the mirror. That
time, however, the mirror was alive. And from somewhere deep within the edges
of her mind, Kenzie recalled the warmth of another palm, pressed against hers.
Her first memory of the game had, perhaps, not been of the game at all, but of
her sister.

“Ken?”
Makenna whispered, when her twin simply stared at her without reply. She curled
her fingers to entwine with her sister’s and squeezed gently. “Tell me what’s
going on.”

“I-I
have no idea.”

“But
what- who- who raised you?”

A
look of utter despair moved into Kenzie’s gaze. It echoed along the corridors
of her heart. “I- I have no idea.” She dropped Makenna’s hand and got up to
pace the room.

“This
can’t be,” Kenzie finally said. “It just can’t be. How could- how could she be
our mother?” Her voice wavered as she clasped her hands behind her neck. “The
woman who raised me was slim. Tall and straight and very slim. Stiff.” It was the
best word she had found to describe her. “She was cold and mean, and she never,
ever smiled. This woman -” she flung her arm toward the photograph Makenna
still held “- is just the opposite. She looks nice. She looks happy. She looks
lovable.
That
is definitely not the woman I lived with for fifteen
years!” Her words bordered on hysteria as she paced frantically.

“But
this woman has to be our mother,” Makenna insisted in a whisper.

Kenzie’s
march led her into the foyer, where a mirror hung next to the front door. She
stopped to stare at her reflection, reaffirming what she already knew. Heart
shaped face. High cheekbones. A wide, generous mouth. Big green eyes.

Exactly
like the woman in the picture.

“Mirrors
don’t lie.” She echoed Makenna’s words with awe. She moved back into the living
room with leaden shoulders, dropping onto the couch beside her sister. “This
woman definitely has to be our mother.”

Makenna
was the first to voice the obvious question. “So where is she now? What could
have happened to her?”

“Maybe-Maybe
they got a divorce. Maybe they split everything down the middle, including
their children.”

“But
the letter…”

“Now
I know why I didn’t recognize the flowing handwriting,” Kenzie murmured. “Or
the way she addressed it,
My Darling Child
. The woman who raised me
didn’t talk like that or write like that, but she didn’t write the letter. Our
real mother did.”

Silence
settled between them as they tried to sort out the facts in their own minds.
“You were right,” Makenna finally whispered. “You were afraid there was more to
come, some other big change about to happen.”

“My
past was already so full of lies. But this has to be the biggest one of all.”

“I
don’t remember her, Ken,” Makenna admitted sadly. She was still surprised the
realization hurt so much. “Do you?”

“No.
I do have that one memory of her laughter, the one I told you about when we
were having a picnic and our father was throwing me up in the air. I remember a
woman’s laughter in the background and we all seemed so happy. I always thought
the memory seemed out of character for the parents I knew. Turns out, I guess I
was right.”

“We
were three when our family broke up. When do your first remember that other
woman?”

“All
these years, I’ve tried so hard to forget,” Kenzie murmured. “I never wanted to
remember my past.” She drummed her palms against her forehead, willing a memory
to appear. “I-I remember when we moved to Colorado. It was sometime later that
year, from what Travis and I pieced together. She was there then.”

“And
she seemed familiar to you? Someone you were comfortable with?”

“I
never felt comfortable around my mother. Around
her,
” she amended. “But
I know what you’re asking. She wasn’t a stranger. I wasn’t afraid of her or
anything.”

“So
apparently you already knew her and trusted her. And at some point you accepted
her as your mother.”

“But
she never accepted me as her daughter,” Kenzie realized sadly. “That’s why she
was so cold and distant. So stiff.”

“But
that still doesn’t explain what happened to our mother. Or how that woman ended
up in your life and I ended up at that church.”

“For
once in my life, I wish I knew how to get in touch with my father,” Kenzie
said. “He’s the only one with the answers.”

The
night was long and restless. Neither sister slept well.

Makenna
mourned the mother she did not remember and the years spent separated from her
twin, but she was not sorry about being adopted. The one thing neither sister
regretted was the life Makenna had been given; the Reagans were the best thing
that had ever happened to either of them. Makenna’s life was happy and filled with
love and laughter and the support of family. Her life was normal. And when the
women became friends in college, the Reagans honorarily adopted Kenzie into
their clan. She even called Makenna’s parents Mom and Dad and thought of them
as her own family. In all the ways that mattered, they were.

Tucked
into her own bed, not even thoughts of her surrogate family could ease the raw
pain burning in Kenzie’s heart. For whatever reason, her mother had left,
depriving her of a happy childhood. She had been raised by
that woman,
and
her life had been miserable. Emotionally abused and ignored, she was raised as
a lonely, only child. Nothing could ease the ache in her soul. Worst of all,
she could not even remember the first three years of her life, the only ones that
had been happy and shared with a mother who loved her.

Morning
light tinted the sky by the time Kenzie finally fell asleep. She awoke to an
empty apartment, with a note from Makenna saying she had to run an errand and
would be back soon. Kenzie indulged in a long shower and dressed in loose,
lightweight sweats. She would never admit it to her sister, but her entire body
was sore and achy from her car crash, especially her leg. Over two months since
surgery, and it was still bothering her.

Curling
up on the couch with a plate of leftovers and the television remote, Kenzie
tried to lose herself in an afternoon movie. Her mind kept straying to the
photograph lying on the coffee table. Her heart kept straying to a tall Texas
Ranger who still had not called.

The
telephone rang and Kenzie grabbed it eagerly, hoping to hear his voice.

Silence
greeted her on the other end.

“Hello?…
Hello?”

She
shrugged and went back to her meal. Probably a wrong number or a bad
connection. They would call back if it was important.

As
predicted, the phone rang again.

“Hello?”

Still,
no one replied.

“Hello?
Is anyone there?”

An
eerie silence vibrated on the other end of the line.

“Who
is this?” Kenzie demanded.

A
distinctive click told her when the caller hung up.

Kenzie
drew a deep breath, telling herself not to over-react.

When
the phone rang a third time, she hesitated before answering. The caller ID
showed ‘unknown’. She let it ring four times before she finally answered.
“Hello?”

Again,
silence.

“If
you have something to say, just say it,” she said testily. She waited a few
seconds before anger overruled fear. “If you can’t talk to me, don’t waste my
time.” She hung up without giving the caller a chance to respond.

Despite
her brave front, the fear returned when she heard the doorbell ring. She
hurried to the door, then hovered with indecision before daring to look out the
peephole. It might be her unknown caller.

Or,
she hoped against hope, it might be Travis. Maybe he was going to surprise her.
It had been two weeks today since he left; an eternity since he had held her
close and kissed her with that magical technique he possessed.

Praying
for a miracle, Kenzie’s heart quickened as she peeked through the hole.

A
handsome face smiled from the other side, but it was not Travis. She tried to
bite down the bitter taste of disappointment, even as a part of her warmed at
the sight of her visitor.

She
had met Craven Shaw, Chief of Staff for Senator Harry Lawrence, when she had
taken an assignment in Colorado four weeks ago. The Senator had specifically
requested her when
Now Magazine
covered the story of the Big Thompson
River Flood relief efforts, even though he only joined them for a few hours. In
his stead, his top aides Craven Shaw and Bernard Franks acted as tour guides and
liaisons during the two-day session. Kenzie and the tall auburn haired man hit
it off immediately, but it was not until the job was over that he expressed his
personal interest in her. While the others returned to Washington, the Colorado
native stayed over a day to give Kenzie a personally guided tour of the Rocky
Mountains and an enchanting evening in the small town of Evergreen. If her
heart had not already belonged to another, Kenzie would have completely fallen
for the Chief of Staff; a tiny part of her had, in fact. But Travis had always
been between them, even when Craven kissed her. Craven knew he faced serious
competition, and made no secret of the fact that he loved a good challenge. He
had been horrified to know his colleague was involved in the Modern Power scam
and had framed the Senator to take the blame; he was devastated to know the
Press Secretary held a gun on Kenzie and threatened to kill her. Craven swore that
if the man were not already dead, he would kill him himself, a task Travis had
already taken care of.

Craven
had been a good friend to her, even if he wanted more from a relationship than
she was able to give. He had not said the words, but she knew he was in love
with her. The fact was evident in his daily calls and his texts, in the flowers
he sent and the thoughtful things he did for her, despite the thousands of
miles that separated them. He was worried about her after the accident and he
had cared enough to come.

Travis
still did not know about the accident, because he still had not called.

For
the first time, the mental comparison she always made between the two men
tipped in Craven’s favor. Saddened by the realization, Kenzie unchained the
door and tried to look happy.

“Surprise!”
the handsome man grinned, pulling a huge bouquet of yellow roses and daisies
from behind his back.

“I
told you not to come, you incorrigible man!” She laughed in spite of herself,
genuinely glad to see her friend.

“Then
what should I do with these?” He whipped his other arm into view, presenting a
plate of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. After sharing the decadent treat in
Evergreen, he somehow turned the simple pastry into a seductive joke between
them.

“You
should get into this apartment immediately, before the neighbors come running
and insist I share!”

His
cologne teased her senses as he pushed his large frame through the doorway. A
former football player in college, Craven was not quite as tall as Travis, but
he was bulkier. A muscled chest and toned biceps proved he still worked out
regularly. Dressed in jeans and tee shirt with a casual sports jacket, the blue-eyed
man could have easily been a male model.

As
Craven handed her the bouquet, his fingers lingered over hers. Kenzie lifted
green eyes to his, aware of the tiny sizzle that zinged between them. It always
reminded her of Travis, and the all-out jolt of lightening his touch sparked.
Travis isn’t here
, she reminded herself.
Craven is
.    

“Are
you sure you’re all right, Kenzie?” he asked solemnly. “You look like you
didn’t sleep well.”

“I
didn’t, but it had nothing to do with the accident. Not directly, anyway.”
Somehow, everything came circling back to her father, and the fraud he
committed against the government, the mafia, and his own daughter. How could he
have lied to her all those years, letting her believe
that
woman
was her mother?

Craven
watched the emotions flicker over her face as she drifted into her own world.
“Anything you want to talk about?” he offered.

Did
she? She hesitated, torn between wanting to confide in someone about her
painful past and wanting to ignore it. Other than Makenna, Travis was the only
person she had ever told the truth of her past. It was a bond they shared. As
crazy as it sounded, sharing it with Craven seemed somehow unfaithful to the
tenuous relationship she and the Ranger were building.

“I
don’t think so, but thanks for asking.” She smiled to soften the rebuke. “I’d
rather talk about what you’re doing here, when I specifically told you not to
come!”

“I
was worried about you, Kenzie. You seem to be a magnet for danger. Have you
always been this way, or is this a new trend you’re trying out?”

Kenzie
laughed, taking her bouquet into the kitchen to find a vase. “Believe it or
not, until three months ago, I’d never had as much as a dented bumper. Two cars
later, however….” She shook her head with weary resignation. “I just hope my
insurance company doesn’t drop me after this. Neither wreck was my fault, but
I’ve totaled two cars in less than three months. That may be pushing the
limits.”

“It
was that bad?” he asked in alarm. “It actually totaled your car?”

“I
don’t know that officially, but I think the engine is a goner. And the hood,
the bumper, the undercarriage. Definitely the brakes. I don’t see much hope for
it.”

“Too
bad. You said you were secretly beginning to like this car.”

“I
know, right?” She smiled ruefully, handing him the vase full of flowers. “Why
don’t you take those into the living room? I’ll make coffee and we can sample
those cinnamon rolls.” As she clanged around in the cupboards, she called over
her shoulder, “So how long are you here for?”

“I
have to be back in Washington Tuesday morning.”

“That’s
only tonight and tomorrow.” She was surprised at the disappointment washing
through her, knowing his visit would be so brief.

“I’ll
be back in a couple of weeks for the Convention,” he reminded her.

As
Kenzie carried the coffee into the living room, she glanced into the mirror
beside the door. She wished she were wearing something other than black sweat
pants and a loose pink zebra print sweatshirt. The boat-neck kept slipping from
her shoulders to reveal the straps of her lacy pink bra. At least she had put
on makeup and washed her hair, even if it had dried in a wild disarray of curls
around her face.

“I
see you still have your boring little slippers,” Craven said dryly, eying the
ridiculous pair of green and pink fuzzy favorites.

“Can’t
goof off around the house without them,” she shrugged, revealing more bare
shoulder. She pretended not to notice how Craven’s eyes slid over her, his gaze
hungry but respectful as he took in her full curves. Travis looked at her the
same way.

Travis
isn’t here
,
she reminded herself once again. 

“What
hotel are you staying at?” She addressed a safe topic as she handed him his
coffee and took the seat beside him.

He
named a luxury boutique hotel and picked up the plate of gooey delight.
“Compliments of the hotel pastry chef, by the way.”

“Yum.
I’ve heard they’re fabulous.”

“One
way to find out.” He pulled apart a yeasty roll and touched it to her lips. He
teased her with a swipe of frosting, pulling the treat away from her opened
mouth.

There
was nothing teasing, however, about the way he watched her lick the sugar from
her lips. The moment charged with electricity. He licked his own lips, clearing
wanting to kiss her. Awareness hummed between them, taking the form of a
cinnamon roll.

He
teased her with the treat once more, letting her get just a tiny taste, before
he pulled it back again. Her eyes locked with his as he slowly pushed the treat
into her mouth, letting his finger skim across her bottom lip. Kenzie swallowed
hard. 

Travis
isn’t here
,
her body hummed.
Craven is.

She
closed her eyes, savoring the sweetness of the cinnamon roll. She knew Craven
was an excellent kisser. She knew all she had to do was lean in just a bit in
invitation, and he would take her into his arms and kiss her and take away all
her insecurities and fears and loneliness. The thought was tempting. The pull
of his body was inviting. But she knew indulging in sex with Craven would be
like indulging in the decadent cinnamon rolls; tomorrow, she would regret her
weakness.

Gathering
her willpower, Kenzie thought of the one thing that made a relationship with
Craven tempting but impossible:
Travis
.

“Mmm,
delish!” she proclaimed. Her voice came out slightly husky, but she forced a
light attitude into her words as she leaned back and pulled her coffee cup
between them. Her eyes flashed brief regret as she met his gaze with a silent
apology.

She
saw the pained disappointment in his blue eyes. She hated to hurt him, but
leading him on would hurt him even more. Always the gentleman, Craven pulled
back and took her decision with grace. He reached for his coffee cup, his hand
only slightly unsteady. “You’re right, these are good,” he said, biting into
the other half of the cinnamon roll.

In
spite of herself, Kenzie followed the movement with her eyes. Her body still
hummed, wondering what might have been.