Twin Identity

By Cherie Bratcher

Twin Identity is a story of innocence, love, betrayal, crime and passion.

The story begins many years ago when a young couple, Nora and Aubrey, fall in love. The differences between the two families could normally survive, but not when Aubrey's mother blackmails him into breaking off their relationship.

Nora’s suicide attempt nearly ends her life but she finds the courage to move on. Several years later, the loss of a loved one and the truth behind the break-up puts her back in Aubrey’s arms...If they only knew twenty-one years later their two worlds would collide in a roller coaster ride of deceit and danger.

Years later, when Nora suspects her daughter may not be who she thinks, she contacts Aubrey for help. Nora finds that Aubrey is no longer married and his daughter – who he thought was traveling abroad – is actually missing.

The only way they can solve their mystery is to expose their lies and turn on the ones they once loved. Can they find their way back to each other or will their lies destroy any chance of happiness?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cherie Bratcher
• Release date: Dec 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301469260

Cherie Bratcher

Cherie currently lives in Chapel Hill, NC where she resides with her husband and daughter. Her main passions are her family, reading and writing. She grew up in Minnesota and is the youngest of six children. Twin Identity is her first novel and she is currently working on the sequel, "Twin Deception."

Book preview

Twin Identity

By Cherie Bratcher

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TWIN IDENTITY

Copyright Cherie Bratcher, 2012

Published by Cherie Bratcher at Smashwords

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means – except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or review – without written permission.

For more information:

www.cheriebratcher.com

[e-mail]

ISBN 978-1481097109

Cover Design by Rob Bignell

Edited by Rob Bignell

Manufactured in the United States of America

First printing November 2012

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you to Rob for his encouragement and tireless editing, suggestions and feedback. Your work helped make this a better book in many, many ways. Thanks for sticking with me.

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DEDICATIONS

Thank you to my husband, Scott, for standing by me

with this new endeavor. Your support means more

to me than you will ever know.

Last but not least, thank you to my daughter, Hailey. You have exceeded everything I hoped to have in a daughter. You inspire me every day and make me proud to be your mom.

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EPIGRAPH

My nightmares haunt me like a thief in the night

I try to take shelter, but they just won’t take flight

Take me from darkness and those who cause pain

Eliminate their power so there’s nothing to gain

I would have loved you had I been given the chance

Betrayal and lies was their ultimate stance

Guilty as charged I can’t get it right

My thoughts are imprisoned at least for the night

I slip into dreams that haunt me some more

I try to reason and show them the door

I confuse the difference between wrong and right

I’m not who you think even in plain sight.

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Prologue

I ran so fast, I thought I may fall if I didn’t stop to catch my breath. I hid behind a tree and started to shake. My heart raced fast and furious. I was so tired and unsure if I could go on.

I finally escaped but had no idea where to run. Who was trying to hurt me and why? I don’t even know how I ended up here. Just as I found the strength to get up and keep running, I felt a hand on my shoulder. My knees felt weak, and I thought I was going to pass out. Please let me go, was all I could say before I turned to see who had been chasing me.

My vision was fuzzy, and I don’t understand what I was looking at. Did I fall and hit my head? Is this a dream?

Chapter 1

Nora

December 1977

I lay in complete darkness, the excruciating pain rippling from different areas of my body. This has to be a nightmare, I told myself. Someone gripped my hand, but the ringing in my head disguised her words. A sharp needle pierced my arm. Am I dead? Alive? Trapped in a nightmare?" I asked myself. I must be having an outer body experience. Within a few seconds, I floated, and the pain vanished.

All I could remember of the entire evening was the car sliding around on the road. I thought Stacy would be able to straighten it out but then I saw the headlights from a truck approaching us. She froze, so I reached over to grab the wheel out of instinct. The other girls screamed as the car went off the road. All of the sudden, time went in slow motion. The car flipped over and over. Purses were flying in the air. My body would become weightless, and then I felt sick. The last thing I clearly remember was hitting a tree, and everything stopped. I was in and out of consciousness and heard moaning and faint cries and then everything went silent.

My parents were the ones to tell me that two of my friends died that night. Stacy was in critical condition but stable. We both had on our seatbelts, but the girls in the back did not. No one was at fault that evening. The snow covered the underlying sheet of ice. Thankfully, the truck driver that we were able to avoid saw what happened and called for help. I had to have surgery on my leg to reset the bone and was in a cast. I had also broken my left arm and several ribs.

That was just after Christmas my senior year in high school. We were still on break when the accident happened. I couldn’t help but feel this may have been my fault. If I hadn’t grabbed the wheel, maybe none of this would have happened. My mom and dad kept telling me that if I hadn’t we would have hit the truck head on and most likely would have all died. They combined the funerals since both girls had been best friends since the age of four. They waited for just over a week to have the funeral so that both Stacy and I could attend.

That day was so surreal for me. Seeing the pictures near each coffin of the girls brought me back to the day the pictures were actually taken. They were our senior portraits, and we made sure to all have them taken with the same photographer, same day, and same locations. We thought it would be fun to all be dressed up together and have a group photo taken at the end of the day. We even went out to dinner that night since we were all dressed up. After looking at the pictures, I looked at the coffins and felt like I was just kicked in the chest. I remembered that the photo we all took at the lake was near the location of the accident. I would get lightheaded as the next vision of them would be sprawled out in the car with blood all over us. My mom would squeeze my hand almost as a reminder to breathe. I think the only thing that helped me to get through that day was the heavy pain medication that I was on. The only way I was able to sleep was to rely on sleeping pills, even though they didn’t mask the nightmares that would come and go. Sometimes I would see them cry out for help, and other times they were in their coffins. I never told my mom or dad about these horrific nightmares. I hoped that I could get through this with time.

Just as I thought things were getting a little better someone would say something to me at school that would bring it all back. It was so hard to be surrounded by everyone who knew Sonja and Tammi. I can’t wait to graduate so I can move away. Maybe the nightmares would end, I told myself.

Chapter 2

June 1981

I sat in the break room and thought about how different my life could have been had I gone to college instead of beauty school. My parents tried talking me out of this profession. They felt I should find another career so I could make more money and have the kind of things I never had growing up. Was I just stubborn and wanted to take my own path or was I scared that I wasn’t smart enough to go to college? I do know that going to school for just 1 year was appealing to me. I wanted to leave town so bad after what happened. I felt like I was defined by the accident. If I had a dime for every time I heard that poor girl, I would be rich by now.

I worked as a hairdresser in an upscale salon in downtown Chicago. I met wealthy people every day since I work near hotels where all the rich traveling businessmen stay. They were so arrogant and pretentious that it almost sickened me to have to cut their hair. The nice thing was that most of them just talk about themselves, and all I had to do is smile and nod. It was a small price to pay considering they tip unusually well.

The morning had been dragging on so slow that I had to literally pull myself up from my chair when my break was over. Once I glanced at the appointment book, it showed that I had three more haircuts that afternoon. All men with snobby names like Jonathan, Aubrey and Collin. I have to remember how fortunate I am to have this job. It made me think of the shoes.

A year earlier I had been in an expensive department store trying to buy an overpriced pair of shoes. I thought they were one of the pairs that were marked 50% off. It was still too much for me, but I’d had a bad day and needed to feel better. When the lady told me the total price, I said They are on sale!

I’m sorry, but this particular pair is not, she said.

I was mortified since I knew that I didn’t have enough. My face turned red, and my heart raced. I apologized and told her that I don’t have the money. I wanted to run out of the store. I was so embarrassed since there were people in line behind me. I left the store immediately and found a bench near a tree. Tears ran down my face, not because I didn’t get to buy the shoes but because the reality of my life hit me once again. I’m in a dead end job, I’m broke, my boyfriend is a loser, and I want someone else’s life! I can just see my mom saying, I told you so. She hated the idea of me leaving Minnesota for Chicago. I couldn’t stand the idea of spending my life in such a small town. I always dreamed of Chicago, and nothing was going to stop me from going.

Take a deep breath; it will make you feel better. Great, now I’m literally hearing my mom’s words. She always said that to me when I was a kid and crying about something.

I lifted up my head to see a woman standing there. Was she the one who said that? The sun shined behind her so all I could really see was her silhouette. She held up a bag for me. I knew at that moment that she bought the shoes for me. The tears began to flow again. No one had ever done something so nice for me. She sat down and asked why such a pretty young girl would be so upset about a pair of shoes. I had never met this lady before but was so compelled to open up to her. She had big blonde hair with bright makeup on and the prettiest fake nails I had ever seen. Her jewelry almost blinded me when the sunlight hit it. I’m not sure what happened to me, but I just couldn’t stop talking. After rambling on about poor me and how so many things in my life were so depressing, I realized that she was actually listening to me. That was rare. I quickly got embarrassed and apologized. She told me that she wanted to hear more. She said it was refreshing to listen to someone who was so honest about her life. During my rambling, I mentioned that I worked in a small salon that didn’t pay well and the clients didn’t bother to tip. I saw her open her purse, which seemed to be an effort. All the heavy latches and knobs and zippers fascinated me. I knew she had to have spent a fortune on her purse. I told her that I couldn’t take her money, especially after she just spent so much on the shoes. She laughed and after much effort pulled out a business card. It was from a salon where she gets her hair styled. She told me that she is friends with the owner and that I should let her know that we met.

My name is Dolores, and it was a pleasure meeting you, she said. She told me to enjoy the shoes and to have a fun night out. I followed her cue since I could see that she was in a hurry after looking at her diamond studded watch. We both stood.

I’m not sure what came over me, but I hugged her as though she just changed my life. Thank you for listening and for buying me the shoes, I said. It made me realize that her listening to me was more of a gift than the shoes could ever be.

She said that it was nothing and that she may have gotten more out of our meeting than I did.

I quickly and cautiously put the business card in my purse. I grabbed my bag and ran home. I couldn’t wait to try on the shoes and put them on immediately. Something was inside the shoe, so I took it off and saw a hundred dollar bill. Are you kidding? Who does this? I couldn’t stop smiling. Now I know what she meant when she said to have a fun night out.

I called the owner of the salon, and we made arrangements to meet the next morning. She laughed when I said who I met and added she’d just got off the phone with Dolores. Please come for an interview. I’m really short staffed since one of my stylists ran off with a client of hers and never came back.

I need to go and get something to wear for the interview, I thought. The store I was at earlier had a big sale in the clothing department. Could I really go back there after everything that happened? Who cares! I don’t know them.

Once I found an outfit that would match my shoes, I realized there was a little left over. I couldn’t believe that there was only one checkout line open and it just had to be the same lady as earlier. I assumed the clerk would say something rude, but she didn’t. She had a big smile on her face. That lady was so nice not only to buy you the shoes but to put that kind of money in it, she said. I was so relieved and told her that not only was Dolores so kind but that she may have just changed my life forever. I laughed as I realized how dramatic that must have sounded.

I went to the salon the next morning and met with the owner. Her name was Jodi, and she was so nice to me. She gave me a little background on Dolores. She was the widow of a millionaire and owned several hotels in Chicago. She grew up in poverty but worked hard to change her life. She met her husband when she was 19. They were unable to have children. Dolores spent her life doing charity work with the underprivileged. That explained everything to me. Jodi hired me on the spot, and I worked as her assistant for two months and then was able to work on my own. I worked hard to build a clientele but most of my time was spent with walk-in appointments.

Jonathan? Hi, my name is Nora, and I will be cutting your hair today. How are you? I really didn’t care how he was, but it was the first thing I asked my clients.

I’m in town on business and didn’t find the time to get my haircut before I left town, he said.

All the conversations started out the same. Eventually I just start cutting their hair and would smile and nod every so often. Occasionally a few will ask if I would like to meet them for drinks later. I must be a good actress because they didn’t pick up on how I was so bored with our conversation. I politely thank them and say my usual lie, I have dinner plans with my boyfriend. I graciously accept the tip and get ready for the next haircut.

I mentally prepared myself to put on yet another display of interest for my next appointment. I walked to the reception area, looked at the name on the service ticket.

Aubrey, I said, and our eyes met. He had to have been the most gorgeous man I had ever met. He was younger than most and was not in a stiff suit and tie. He had brown hair and intense blue eyes. He was wearing casual clothes and looked very relaxed. Hi, my name is Nora and I will be cutting your hair today, I finally said.

He smiled and reached out to shake my hand. I was scared to because I think my hand was trembling. Take a deep breath, I told myself, it always works. I just assumed that he would be like the others just younger. How are you?

I expected the same answer. Just a little tired, he said. I just moved into the city and will be starting med school soon. Do you know where the local library is?

Finally a normal conversation and with a client that is close to my age. We continued to talk even after I finished cutting his hair. I took off the cape and leaned against my station. We laughed and talked for more than an hour. I looked at the clock and knew that I was running late for my next haircut. Just at that moment another stylist that I work with, Lisa, said that her appointment cancelled and that she would be happy to take the appointment for me. She smiled and winked at me as she walked away. Thank you, I said with a