Double Identity by Diane Burke Read Free Book Online Page B

Brilliant colors of pink, lavender, blue and purple swirled across the sky. He wasn’t sure which was God’s most artistic masterpiece, the breathtaking sunset or the silhouette of Sophie standing on the top step of the porch.
    “I wish you’d come into town with me.” He tried to keep his apprehension out of his voice. The last thing she needed was more stress today. But it didn’t feel right leaving her out here surrounded by woods and all alone.
    “Don’t be silly,” Sophie said. “This is my home.”
    “I know but…”
    “No buts. The people who tossed my house are probably as dog tired as I am. They’re not planning on coming back tonight.” She smiled up at him. “Now, go. Seriously. Before it gets much later.”
    He straightened but didn’t move off the porch.
    “Cain, really, I appreciate you worrying about me. I truly do. But I’ll be fine. I’ll go inside and lock the doors and the windows the second you leave. Besides, your hourly rate and my budget aren’t that compatible.” She grinned the second he started to protest and then he realized she was teasing him about owing him money. She knew he wouldn’t think of charging her for this and had gotten the rise out of him she’d expected.
    He grinned in return. “A man knows when he’s been defeated.” He bowed his head and then lumbered down the steps. He opened the driver’s door and paused before slipping inside. “Lock up. Immediately.”
    Sophie stood and saluted. “Yes, sir.”
    Cain shook his head, slid behind the wheel and started the engine.
    She watched the tail end of his compact car disappear down the dirt road. A grin twisted her lips. From the size of the dust cloud behind him, it was obvious his foot leaned heavily on the accelerator. For a man who hadn’t wanted to leave he sure was in a hurry now.
     
     
    Sophie started to go inside but decided to steal a moment—just one, quiet, uneventful moment—and enjoy the twilight. She wrapped an arm around the porch post and stared into the distance. This was exactly the kind of night her father and she would have spent together. They’d have worked on their separate projects most of the day, come together for dinner, and then carried a final cup of coffee out on the porch to sit, talk, just be together.
    Her throat closed up. Oh, Daddy, how could you do this? Instantly her mind jumped to thoughts she didn’t want to have and taunted her with them. Are you sure he’s your father? How do you know? You don’t even know his real name. How can you be sure of anything anymore? The emotional pain that swept from head to toe couldn’t have hurt more if she was being physically tortured.
    She had lived her entire life believing she was Sophia Joy Clarkston. Sophie—the person who loved strawberries and thick cream. Who loved walking barefoot in sand. Who loved the change of colors in the fall, the smell of lilacs in spring and the scent of pine at Christmas. The same Sophie who loved to mold and create objects, animals and people out of a shapeless lump of clay. The Sophie who cherished the opportunities to sit on a porch swing or lie in the grass and count the stars.
    If she wasn’t really Sophia Joy Clarkston, then who was she? And did everything she remembered, everything she’d done, everything she’d ever believed she was, now suddenly change because she wasn’t the person she’d thought she was?
    A tear slipped down her cheek.
    Oh, Dad! What were you thinking? Why didn’t you talk to me…trust me?
    Over the years, she’d met many older people at the craft fairs that wished they could live their lives over. Start fresh with a clean slate. But Sophie wondered, if they were given that option, if everything they thought they were was gone and they had nothing—no family, no expectations, no memories—would they want their life erased as simply as chalk off a blackboard? She didn’t. At least she knew that much about herself—no matter who or what her real name would