The Stranger in the Mirror(36)

“All right, then,” she said. “Let’s stop taking shots in the dark and getting upset over things that may not turn out to be true. Agreed?”

Hailey nodded, unsmiling, but Blythe could see that Gabriel wasn’t convinced. He leveled a look at her. “I need to ask you something.”

She waited.

“Are you planning to call Darcy? To tell her what’s happened?”

For the first time since Julian Hunter appeared, she felt anger toward her son. Was he so obsessed with Addison that he questioned his mother’s integrity? “Of course not. How can you even ask me that?”

“Let’s be honest, Mom. You were never crazy about the idea of Addison and me getting married.”

Blythe’s face felt like it was on fire. “Only because I was afraid you’d get hurt,” she said, and then added hotly, “Just as you have been.”

“All right, all right,” Ted said. “Let’s all sit back and calm down. Attacking each other isn’t helping anything.”

Gabriel looked at the ceiling, silent. Then, returning his gaze to Blythe, he said, “I’m sorry. I . . . I don’t know. I can’t even think straight right now.”

She went to the sofa and put her arm around her son, drawing him near. “It’s all right. I understand. I’m so sorry for what you’re going through.”

He leaned into her, and she felt his body shake as he cried against her shoulder, the way he had when he was just a little boy and cut his knee or broke a toy. This time, though, a bandage or tube of glue wouldn’t fix it. This time Gabriel’s heart was breaking. At that moment all Blythe wished was that her son had never met the woman who called herself Addison Hope.





??31??

Addison




A black Jaguar pulls into the driveway, and I watch from the window as Julian gets out of it. I’m struck again by his good looks, although they don’t engender any feeling in me. My heart still belongs to Gabriel. I move from the window and go to the door, opening it before he knocks.

He gives me a broad smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I say, feeling suddenly shy.

He raises one eyebrow. “Is it okay if I come in?”

A nervous laugh escapes my lips. “Of course. Please.” I open the door wide, and he walks inside. Gigi and Ed are in the living room, having convinced me to allow them to stay, and she’s put out a tray with coffee and pastries.

“Please come and sit. I hope you understand, but Ed and Gigi would like to talk to you, too. They’ve become like parents to me,” I explain.

A look passes over his face, but I can’t tell what it means. “Of course.”

He’s carrying a briefcase, which he places on the floor next to his chair before pulling out a folder from it. “Here’s your birth certificate, license, and passport.” He hands the folder to me, and I examine each carefully. There’s my photo, and my birthday, which still shocks me. June 8, 1984.

He retrieves another document from the briefcase. “Valentina’s birth certificate.” I take it from him, my hand shaking. “Cassandra Hunter” under “Mother.”

“Well, I guess this proves who I am. So can you tell me what happened the day I disappeared?”

He clears his throat. “I came home from the hospital, and the front door was wide open. It was around seven, and already dark outside. Your purse and phone were sitting on the console table, but you were gone.”

“Was there a sign of a struggle, anything out of place?” Ed asks.

Julian shakes his head. “No, and none of the neighbors saw anything. Of course, our house is pretty secluded. But the detective on the case questioned everyone in the area, and there were no witnesses. It was like you simply vanished.”

It makes no sense to me. “Maybe I let someone in, and they kidnapped me? Then I got away? I still don’t understand why I don’t remember, though.”

“We’ve been trying to figure out what happened for two years. But there is something you should know.” He sighs. “You were on medication for depression and anxiety.”

“What?” I say.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you with too much at once, but you didn’t have the easiest childhood. There was a lot of . . . trauma.”

Trauma? That’s the first thing I’m hearing that makes sense to me. I can feel it in my body, and I know I’ve been through something terrible. It also explains the things that come back to me and scare me so. “Tell me. I need to know. You don’t have to sugarcoat it for me.”

Julian pauses a moment, looking at each of us. “Your parents were killed in a car accident when you were twelve. You had no other family, and so you were put into foster care. You were moved around quite a bit, and unfortunately you suffered abuse in some of the homes. You were working on it in therapy when I met you.”

“Is that why I . . .” I look down at my wrists.

“It’s not an easy question to answer, but you battled depression as a result of your past. I thought you had it under control, but after Valentina was born, it got a hold of you again. That’s when you—” He stopped and expelled a deep breath. “Do you really want to get into that right now?”

I’m relieved that he’s given me an out. I’d rather hear about this one-on-one. “No, I’d rather not, actually. Maybe I can speak to my therapist about it all . . . assuming he or she is still available?”