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He held up his hand, obviously not wanting to hear more. “Don’t, Vi. I don’t get it. How could Mom keep this from us all these years? I feel like my whole life is a lie. Is my name even Jack Colby?”
She didn’t have an answer for that. It might be Wallace, she supposed, but they didn’t even know if that was right.
“I don’t know,” she said carefully. “Maddie’s father is away. She’s trying to get in touch with him. When she does, maybe he’ll have some answers.”
Jack spun, facing them, his hands clenched into fists. “So you expect me just to wait while some stranger decides to tell me about my own life? I can’t do that. I’ve got to—” He stopped, shook his head. “I’ve got to get away until I can clear my head.”
“Jack, don’t.” Don’t go away and leave me to face this alone—that was what she wanted to say.
“I have to.” He was already headed for the door. “I’ll take my cell phone. Call me if there’s any change in Mom’s condition.” He yanked open the door and charged out. The door slammed behind him.
Violet fought down a sob. Her family really was breaking apart, and her efforts to smooth the waters had only made things much, much worse.
Chapter Three
Landon’s mind was still on that encounter with Maddie’s unexpected twin when he arrived at his office the next morning. The long arm of coincidence had really extended itself when he’d walked into that coffee shop yesterday.
Or maybe it wasn’t coincidence at all. He stopped in there often, sometimes with Maddie. Maddie was there even more often alone, living as close as she did. Still, he couldn’t quite see why Violet would take such a chancy way of approaching Maddie, even if she had known of her existence.
Despite his caution, he had trouble imagining that Violet was anything other than she seemed. She’d been genuinely shaken at the sight of Maddie. He didn’t think she could have faked that.
Odd, that Violet could be so like Maddie in appearance and yet so different in other ways. Violet gave the impression of a woman with a warm heart combined with a strong will. Sometimes that could be a dangerous mixture.
He pushed open the door to the office, which was discreetly lettered Derringer Investments. The firm had little need of obvious advertising. Their clients came to them by word of mouth—by far the best way, as far as he was concerned.
“Good morning, Landon.” Mercy Godwin, his secretary, receptionist, assistant and good right arm, was at her desk ahead of him as always. Mercy’s row of African violets on the windowsill made an unexpected display of color in a place of business.
He’d agreed she could have one plant in the office, back in the mists of time when they were just starting out. Somehow the number of violets had multiplied along with their clients.
“Morning, Mercy.” Sometimes he wondered how she timed her arrivals. No matter how early he walked in, she was already there.
“Your schedule is fairly clear today.” She frowned at her computer screen, as if daring it to come up with an event she didn’t remember. “Dave Watson called. He’ll be here in about fifteen minutes.”
Mercy didn’t ask why the private investigator was coming in. Never displaying curiosity was one of her admirable traits. In her fifties, plump and graying, she was a childless widow whose life revolved around her work. He wasn’t sure what he’d do when she decided to retire.
He’d actually contacted the private investigator before he’d left the coffee shop yesterday. The sooner his doubts about Violet Colby were put to rest, the better. Dave would start with the whole question of whether or not the twins were born in Fort Worth. Apparently he had results already.
“That’ll give me time for a quick look at my email first. I took a break from business yesterday.”
Taking a break in this case had meant driving out to the ranch where he boarded his horse and setting off on a long ride, followed by a late swim and an early bed, with all connection to the outside world strictly forbidden. He’d adopted the weekly ritual when he’d realized that if he didn’t take a breather from the tyranny of constant communication on a regular basis, he’d burn out before he was forty.
Nodding to Mercy, Landon went on into his office. Simple and understated, it suited him. His business was almost entirely electronic, and costly decorating was unnecessary, besides not to his taste. Sinking down in his leather desk chair, he scanned quickly through his email, mentally classifying the messages in order of importance as he did so, until one name stopped him cold.
Maddie. According to the time, she must have sent the message about an hour after they’d parted the day before. He clicked on it.
I’ve decided to go to Grasslands with Violet for a visit. Thanks for finding her. I can take it from here.
Please forget about proposing. We both know that what we feel for each other isn’t enough to build a marriage on. You only proposed out of some notion that you need to take care of me, but you don’t. I’ll take care of myself.
I’ll call you when I get back. In the meantime, I think it’s better if we’re not in touch.
Landon sat frowning at the message for a long moment. Maddie had gone off with a woman she’d known for all of an hour, and she didn’t say when she was coming back. He didn’t like this one bit.
Maybe Maddie was right, and his relationship with her wasn’t a good basis for marriage. He’d promised her brother Grayson he’d look after Maddie when all the Wallace men were away, so he’d been trying to do that. The proposal had sprung out of sympathy and caring at a time when she’d been distraught, crying on his shoulder over the loss of her promising job and the lack of support she felt from her family. Somehow he’d thought proposing would make things better. It hadn’t. That was one time when his sense of responsibility had led him astray.
Frustration tightened his nerves. Never mind his reasons. He still cared about Maddie’s welfare, and she needed someone to watch over her.
She’d probably dismiss that as an old-fashioned ideal, but he’d felt that way since he’d started hanging around with her brother when they were in their teens.
The Wallace kids had lost their mother, their father was absent more than he was present, and in Landon’s view, Grayson hadn’t done enough to take care of his little sister.
Pain gripped Landon’s heart at the thought, and he seemed to see his own sister Jessica smiling at him, looking at her big brother with so much love. His guilt, never far away, welled up. He hadn’t taken care of his little sister. If he had, she’d never have gotten into a car with a drunken teenager, never been in the crash, never ended her life far too soon. Maybe that was why he felt such a need to look after Maddie.
A tap on the door interrupted the memories before they could cut too deeply. He looked up with a wave of relief. “Come in.”
Dave Watson lounged into the room, deceptively casual in jeans, a T-shirt and a ball cap. He managed to look like a good old boy interested in nothing more than the Cowboys’ prospects for the upcoming season. In actuality, Dave was as shrewd as they came and in Landon’s opinion, the best investigator in Fort Worth.
“Hey, chief. How’s it going?” Dave wandered across the room and slumped into the visitor’s chair.
“You tell me.” Landon studied the private investigator’s face, but Dave didn’t give anything away. “Do you have results already?”
Dave shrugged. “It wasn’t exactly a challenge. No twin girls were born in any hospital in Fort Worth on the date you gave me.”
“You’re sure?”
The P.I. just looked at him in response. It had been a silly question. Dave wouldn’t report unless he was sure.
So that left the question hanging. Had Violet been lying, or just ill-informed? Either way, Landon didn’t like it.
He came to a quick decision. “I want you to expand the search. Same date, but take in Dallas and the surrounding area, okay?”
“Will do.” Dave raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”
“For now. I might need more later.” Landon shoved back from his desk in a decisive movement. “I’m going out of town for a few days. Call my private cell number if you find anything.”
Maddie might think she’d ended things between them, but she couldn’t end his sense of responsibility for her. Regardless of whether Violet was on the up-and-up or not, he had a bad feeling about this situation. Either way, Maddie could end up hurt. It was his job to see that didn’t happen.
* * *
“Was this the best facility to deal with her care?” Maddie asked the question as they walked through the hospital lobby in Amarillo the next morning.
“It has the highest-rated trauma center in this part of the state,” Violet said. “Luckily, Jack saw the accident, so he called for help on his cell phone right away. Doc Garth was there in minutes.” She’d be forever grateful for that. Without Doc’s prompt care, her mom might not have made it as far as Amarillo. “As soon as the doctor realized how bad it was, he had her airlifted here.”
Maddie nodded. “I didn’t mean my question to sound critical. Really. I’ve spent most of my life in the city. The ranch seems so remote in comparison.”
“I guess so. It’s just home to me.” She smiled as they got on the elevator. “You can’t imagine how stressed I was driving in Fort Worth traffic. I can drive from the ranch clear into Grasslands without passing another car.”
An older woman got into the elevator after them, doing a double take as she looked from one to the other. Violet wasn’t sure how to respond. So this was a taste of what it was like, having an identical twin.
If they’d been raised together, would they have dressed alike? Would they have had their own private jokes and secrets that no one else was allowed to know? Sorrow filled her. It was strange, to be mourning the loss of something she’d never had. Did Maddie feel the same, or didn’t it bother her?
The elevator doors swished open, and Violet’s stomach lurched. The hospital was nice enough, as hospitals went. She led the way down the long corridor toward her mom’s room. Bright, cheerful, with none of the antiseptic odors she remembered from a brief hospital stay when she was six.
Despite that, Violet’s spirits were dampened each time she came through the doors. No matter how cheerful she tried to be, just in case her mom was actually hearing her, fear hung on her like a wet, smothering blanket on a hot Texas day.
“It’s the next room down,” she said, and tried to pin a smile on her face when she saw the apprehension in Maddie’s eyes. “It’ll be all right. One of the nurses told me that coma patients can sometimes hear what’s said, even if they can’t respond. So she may know you’re here. Know we’ve found each other.”
“I hope so,” Maddie murmured, and Violet had the sense that she was praying silently. Whispering a prayer of her own, Violet squeezed her hand and walked with her into the room.
Sunlight streamed across the high hospital bed, and machines whirred softly. Belle was motionless, lying much as she had been when Violet left yesterday. A lifetime ago, it now seemed.
“Mom?” Violet covered her mother’s hand with hers. How odd it was to see Belle’s hands so still—she was always in motion, and even in conversation her hands would be moving.
No response, and Violet fought to keep that fact from sending her into a downward spiral.
“One day when I say that, you’re going to open your eyes and ask what I want.” She kept her voice light and gestured for Maddie to come closer.
Maddie’s face had paled, and tears glistened in her eyes. She seemed to be searching Belle’s features, maybe looking for herself there.
“I brought someone to see you, Mom. You’re going to be so surprised. It’s Maddie. Can you believe that? We’ve found each other, after all this time.” She gave her sister an encouraging smile. “Say something to her.”
“I’m so glad to see you.” Maddie’s voice wobbled a little on the words. “I didn’t know. I never guessed that my real mother was out there someplace. Not until I walked into a coffee shop in Fort Worth and saw Violet sitting there.”
Violet stroked her mother’s hand, willing her to hear. “We look exactly alike, Mom. Did you realize we would? I suppose we must have, even when we were babies.”
The enormity of the whole crazy situation struck Violet, and suddenly she couldn’t control her voice. She couldn’t keep pretending that this deception was okay.
“Why, Momma?” The words came out in a choked cry, in the voice of her childhood. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
But her mother didn’t answer. Maybe she never would. For the first time in Violet’s life she faced a problem without her mother to advise her. The loneliness seemed to sink into her very soul.
And then she felt an arm go around her. Maddie drew her close, her face wet with tears for the mother she’d never known. As they held each other and wept, Violet knew she’d been wrong. She wasn’t alone.
* * *
It was late afternoon when Violet finally got to Grasslands that day. She wouldn’t have bothered going to town after driving back from Amarillo, but she was responsible for the Colby Ranch Farm Stand, and she had to be sure things were going smoothly.
Maddie had opted to stay at the ranch rather than come into town with her, and Violet couldn’t help feeling a bit of relief at that decision. The two of them had attracted enough second glances in Amarillo, where no one knew them. Violet could just imagine the reaction in Grasslands, where every single soul could name her. She’d have to figure out how she was going to break the news to friends and neighbors, but at the moment, it was beyond her.
She hurried into the cinder block building on Main Street that housed the farm stand. The stand had grown and changed a lot since it had been nothing more than a stall along the side of the road. She liked to think she’d had something to do with that growth.
Jack had never shown an interest in the produce fields and the pecan grove, and his only reaction when assigned to weeding or planting duty had been a prolonged moan. Belle had never listened to that, and when they were growing up, they’d both learned how to do every chore that was suitable to their ages. It had been good training for the future.
Violet had never understood her brother’s distaste for farming. From the time she could trot after Ricardo, Lupita’s husband, she’d gone up and down the rows with him, learning where the soybeans grew best and which types of tomatoes to plant. She’d never been happier than when she had her hands in the dirt.
She took a glance at her short, unpolished nails as she pushed the door open and grimaced. That was certainly one way folks could tell her apart from Maddie, whose perfectly shaped nails were a deep shade of pink.
Violet stepped into the large, cool room that formed the main part of the building, with storage facilities and refrigerated lockers in the back room. This place was home to her, just as the ranch was. It might not be fancy, but it was the product of her hard work and vision.
“Violet!” The exclamation came before she was a step past the door, and Harriet Porter came rushing to give her a vigorous hug.
Harriet, tall and raw-boned, admitted to being over sixty, and most folks thought she was pretty far over, but age didn’t slow her down a bit. She could manage the farm stand with one hand tied behind her back.
“Honey, I’m so glad to see you. How’s your momma? Is there any change?”
Violet had to blink back a tear at the warmth of the welcome. “Not much change, I’m afraid. The doctors say she’s stable, but…” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture, not knowing any more positive way to say it.
“I’m sure sorry about that.” Harriet gripped her arm. “Belle’s a fighter, though. Don’t you forget. She’ll come out of this, you’ll see.”
Violet could only nod, because her throat was too tight for anything else.
“Mind, now.” Harriet shook her finger at Violet. “Don’t you let it get you down, y’hear? We grow strong women in Texas, and your momma is one of the best. I reckon the good Lord knows how much we need her here.”
Not as much as Violet needed her, but that went without saying.
“How have things been going? I’m sorry I haven’t checked in with you more often.”
“Honey, don’t you think a thing about it. You know I can deal with the stand for as long as you need. And the kids are doing fine.”
Harriet had a revolving procession of local teenagers who worked for the stand, carting produce and stocking bins. Harriet always referred to them collectively as “the kids,” but she took an interest in each one. They’d get the rough side of her tongue in a hurry if they didn’t pull their weight, but she was a staunch defender when any of them needed help.
“That’s good.” Violet was already sending an assessing gaze around the interior. It was nothing fancy, that was for sure, with concrete floors and cinder-block walls, the produce stacked on long tables or in bins. It was spotless as ever, but Violet noticed a few empty spaces on the tables. “No sweet corn?”
Harriet’s gaze grew dark. “That Tom Sandy tried to palm off corn that must have been picked two days ago on us. I told him what he could do with his stale corn. Why, the sugar would all be turned to starch in it by then. I’d rather do without than put that out. Our customers expect the best.”
True, but it really would be better if Harriet didn’t antagonize one of their suppliers. That had been a change Violet had implemented, buying from some other growers instead of selling only their own produce. It gave them a wider assortment of stock, but managing those growers was time-consuming, and it was a job only Violet could do.
“I’ll talk to Tom,” she promised. “Is anybody else giving you any problems?”
Harriet shook her head. “We sure could use more tomatoes, though. Folks keep asking, but with the weather, there just aren’t enough to be had.”
The weather was a constant worry. This year they’d had too much rain in the early spring, making it hard to get the plants in, followed by a prolonged hot, dry spell that had turned the soil to stone. The plants were looking better now, though, so they’d have plenty before long, she hoped.
“I’ll make some calls,” she said. “Try and find somebody who has them ripening now.”
“Just do it when you have time.” Harriet patted her arm. “I know it’s rough, running back and forth to Amarillo every day. At least you have Jack to help you.”
Violet managed a noncommittal smile at the reference to her brother. If he had any sense, Jack would get himself back here before folks noticed he was gone.
She was saved the task of responding by the approach of Jeb Miller. Despite Jeb’s youth, he’d won the hearts of most of Grasslands in the five years he’d been pastor at Grasslands Christian Church.
“Violet.” He grasped her hands in both of his. “I’m so glad to see you. I must have missed you when I went to the hospital yesterday.”
“Yes, I…I had some things I had to take care of.” Thankfully, Harriet had retired from earshot, probably thinking to give Violet some private time with her pastor, or she’d have been asking where Violet had been.
“I was sorry to see there was no change.” With his red hair, freckles and youthful grin Jeb might not be the classic image of a minister, but he had a warm voice that matched his warm heart. “I prayed with Belle, and I trust she was able to hear and be comforted.”
“Thanks, Jeb. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
