Daisies

By P. A. Nelson

The woman I approached looked very different than my twin sister did the last time I saw her. Could this be a ruse; somebody pretending to be my long-lost identical twin sister? But what would be the object of such an action? Our family didnt have any money and we certainly couldnt have come into the view of some gangster or national embezzler. We are an average farming family who had to give up farming and resort to becoming employees of small local businesses. Surely nobody would target us for a scam.

If it really is Anastasia, why all the cloak and dagger moves? Surely, she wouldnt lie to me and make up some impossible story about her life and why she had been lost from us for so many years! When she removed her sun glasses, I knew it was Anastasia, my identical twin sister who had gone to a lot of trouble to hide her identity from her new world. My heart dropped to the ground as I sat down across from her. Where had she been all these years and what happened to make her deny her family and who could hate her enough to want to kill her? I had hundreds of questions I wanted to ask, but she had given me a script that I had to abide with, because we were both in danger for our lives just sitting here talking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479734603

P. A. Nelson

P.A. Nelson is Professor of Acoustics.

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by P.A. Nelson.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2012919417

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4797-3459-7

                Softcover       978-1-4797-3458-0

          Ebook           978-1-4797-3460-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

123485

Contents

Book Summary

Daisies

Chapter 1—Annabelle in New York

Chapter 2—Anastasia’s and Annabelle’s Childhood

Chapter 3—Anastasia and Annabelle Growing Up

Chapter 4—Anastasia and Annabelle Growing Away

Chapter 5—Anastasia’s and Annabelle’s Continuing Saga

Chapter 6—Kevin Comes Home to Annabelle

Chapter 7—Last Call for Anastasia?

Chapter 8—Anastasia, Where Are You?

Chapter 9—Anastasia Lost in New York

Chapter 10—Annabelle and Kevin Finding Nicholas

Epilogue

Author Image And Autobiography

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my children who have been after me for years to publish the books I have written over the years and write the stories that are still in my head (and luckily also on scraps of paper here and there). Thank you, Deborah, Laurie, Deanna, Mark, and Joel for supporting my writing habit and making me get off the couch and get with the program.

BOOK SUMMARY

The woman I approached looked very different than my twin sister did the last time I saw her. Could this be a ruse; somebody pretending to be my long-lost identical twin sister? But what would be the object of such an action? Our family didn’t have any money and we certainly couldn’t have come into the view of some gangster or national embezzler. We are an average farming family who had to give up farming and resort to becoming employees of small local businesses. Surely nobody would target us for a scam.

If it really is Anastasia, why all the cloak and dagger moves? Surely, she wouldn’t lie to me and make up some impossible story about her life and why she had been lost from us for so many years! When she removed her sun glasses, I knew it was Anastasia, my identical twin sister who had gone to a lot of trouble to hide her identity from her new world. My heart dropped to the ground as I sat down across from her. Where had she been all these years and what happened to make her deny her family and who could hate her enough to want to kill her? I had hundreds of questions I wanted to ask, but she had given me a script that I had to abide with, because we were both in danger for our lives just sitting here talking.

DAISIES

Daisies have the ability to spread and continue spreading or as our characters in this story say, ‘the daisies always come back every year and bring lots of friends with them’.

There are over 20,000 varieties of the daisy family. This star-like flower is sometimes called asters. The daisy family is upwards of fifty million years old, and their family makes up nearly ten percent of the flowering plants on Earth. Daisies are not only flowers, but produce health herbs such as Echinacea and arnica and many edible plants like artichokes and endive. Many flowers, including the Chrysanthemum, are considered to be daisies. The true daisy, however, is the English daisy.

Daisies are best known for the star-spread petals with a yellow center, but some have bright purple petals that curl up at the end. The globe thistle daisy appears as a ball. In truth, daisies come in all colors and sizes, from lavender to maroon to white. They grow in every country, in every climate.

For the purpose of our story, daisies are described as sassy, pert, sophisticated little flowers that are some of the most beautiful in the world. They stand for cheerfulness and exuberance and symbolize innocence, loyal love, purity, and I’ll never tell, all features of our current story. Happy reading!

P.A. Nelson

CHAPTER 1

Annabelle in New York

I was finally going to see my identical twin sister, Anastasia, after all these years or at least it was somebody named Linda who was claiming to be Anastasia. The lobby of the hotel was extremely crowded as I walked through the revolving door into the fashionable building. Over and around the crowd, I could see that this edifice was a very old, beautiful work of art. The high domed ceiling was made of marble and had beautiful carved figures that looked down upon the hurrying crowd below. Gazing at the stunning artwork overhead, I almost missed my chance to escape from the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd that was swelling and receding, like a great wave.

A young woman on the perimeter of the bustling throng wearily lifted a little boy higher into her arms and sighing, grabbed the hand of a tiny girl who had been totally invisible until that moment. The mother appeared to be completely at sea, as though she wasn’t sure as to whether she should attempt the crossing of the crowd or not. I moved aside to make a small hole and she immediately filled it with herself and both children. She was no stranger to the New York mob scene. I stood amazed, watching her maneuver all three of them through the tangled web of arms and legs. Reaching the door with bravado and both children still attached, she whisked through the revolving door and out of sight.

I had lost my place while watching the mother and her children conquer the maddening crowd and had to wait for a break in the congestion to again move forward. I looked to my left and saw walls and elevators, so I assumed the front desk and restaurant was on one of the two walls I couldn’t see as yet. I knew I was correct as soon I saw the Front Desk sign on the wall directly in front of me, which probably left the restaurant across the lobby on the opposite side from where I was boxed in. Glancing at my watch, I realized that I had spent 15 minutes getting from the front door to where I now stood, a distance of about 20 feet. At this rate, I would probably miss Anastasia completely. She would think that I had decided not to come, and would leave without my seeing her at all. I began to panic and breathe heavily in fear of missing her. A stranger standing next to me looked at me sharply and yelled to the crowd, Someone needs air. I think she’s going to faint. Miraculously a large hole that got larger and larger appeared in the circle around me, and I was able to walk through the crowd without anyone pushing, shoving, or in any other way detaining me. I have to remember that ploy if I’m ever in a crowded situation again, I thought as I practically sailed through the now separating crowd. Now I knew how Moses must have felt when the Red Sea parted for him to walk through.

By the time I reached the other side of the lobby, dragging a wheeled suitcase behind me, my breathing was almost back to normal as the crowd shifted, filling the void I had just created. I stood still long enough to catch my breath and reconnoiter, while the crowd continued to seethe around me, giving me dirty looks as if to say, make up your mind where you want to go and then go there. I’d never get used to maneuvering through a crowd like this on a regular basis. How do New Yorker’s do it?

So this is New York, I thought as I struggled with my suitcase. Surely, the lobby doesn’t look like this all the time. I soon changed my mind about that, because the crowd never thinned out; if anything it seemed to increase as the minutes passed. Maybe it’ll look better to me when I’m out of this hotel lobby.

Looking at my watch, I realized that time was running out. If I was going to meet with Anastasia, I had to get to the restaurant right now. When I looked down and under the flashing legs of those walking by, I could see what looked like table legs, so I knew I was close.

Steeling myself for the next leg of my journey through the masses, I lowered my head and butted my way through. I knew it was extremely rude of me to do this, but the New York crowd didn’t even seem to notice. I finally made my way to the coffee shop, which was about 10 feet from where I had been standing, although it took me at least 10 minutes to make those 10 feet. I saw the table legs turn into tables and what looked suspiciously like the outer edges of a spacious dining area. By this time, I was stooping to look through people’s arms and legs rather than trying to see over their heads. There were more people in the lobby of this hotel than attended the county fair back home. Surely, they weren’t all staying here, although judging by the outside appearance of the hotel it probably could accommodate them all.

The directions had been explicit. I was told to walk straight ahead toward the restaurant and she would be sitting at the first table on the left side of the room. I forced myself to look straight ahead and not appear to be looking for anyone. The table she described was exactly where she said it would be and a thin, tow-headed blonde wearing sun glasses was sitting at the table facing me. She was smoking a cigarette, so I almost looked for another table. Anastasia and I had always hated the idea of smoking. In fact we were pretty intolerant and smug about telling others how we felt about smoking in our high school days and before. But as I approached the table, she removed the sunglasses she was wearing and looked my way. She looked right at me and then casually looked away as though she’d never seen me before. But I knew this was part of the act, so I approached the table with a questioning look on my face.

The girl I approached looked very different than my twin sister did the last time I saw her. Could this be a ruse; somebody pretending to be my long-lost identical twin sister? But what would be the object of such an action? Our family didn’t have any money and we certainly couldn’t have come into the view of some gangster or national embezzler. We are an average farming family who had to give up farming and resort to becoming employees of small local businesses. Surely nobody would target us for a scam.

If it really is Anastasia, why all the cloak and dagger moves? Surely, Anastasia wouldn’t lie to me and make up some impossible story about her life and why she had been lost from us for so many years! When she removed her sun glasses, I knew it was Anastasia, my identical twin sister who had gone to a lot of trouble to hide her identity from her new world. My heart dropped to the ground as I sat down across from her. I wanted to hug her and tell her how much we all had missed her over the years, but I didn’t dare make any gestures that could be read by a ‘secret watcher’. Where had she been all these years and what happened to make her deny her family and who could hate her enough to want to kill her? I had hundreds of questions I wanted to ask her, but she had given me a script that I had to abide with, because we were both in danger for our lives just sitting here talking to one another.

Following the script, I acted surprised and asked her if she was Linda Abbot. Anastasia smiled her special, secretive smile and said, Yes, I’m Linda. She looked puzzled as though she should know me, but couldn’t quite recall who I was. Then suddenly she said, Daisy? I didn’t expect her to call me that, but I was able to recover quickly without looking too surprised. My name was Annabelle. Daisies had always been a big part of our lives, so I knew she was using that code word to let me know that it really was her.

I tried not to stare, but I was bowled over by how much she had changed. I didn’t think I had changed that much, but maybe we just don’t see it in ourselves. She was wearing what looked like a very expensive pants suit and hanging over the back of her chair was what looked like a real fur coat. Her nails were long and painted a plum or purple color that matched her suit, that matched her shoes, that matched her purse, that matched the scarf around her neck. Her hair was bleached white blond with a few dark roots showing. Her shoulders slumped as though she had the weight of the world on them. The lines in her face looked like more than just laugh lines, as Dad called them. If her aging had anything to do with her life, I felt that she had been through some pretty rough times.

Looking at her was like seeing someone who resembled someone I knew, but not exactly. She was so much thinner than she had been when she left home 15 years ago, but then I wished often that I was a sleek, sylphlike model type myself. She had blue eyes, instead of the brown eyes we were born with, and her hair may be blond instead of the black hair we were born with, but she was my identical twin sister all right. I looked pointedly at the cigarette and said, I wasn’t sure it was you, because I don’t remember you ever smoking. In fact, I remember you were always very adamant and vocal about the perils of smoking to anyone who smoked.

Yeah, that was me all right! Always the smart ass! It took a while, but I finally grew up.

May I join you? I asked her, looking around. I laid my keys on the table between us per instruction and still standing, I looked around the lobby as I thought a tourist would do, I just got into town and haven’t even had time to check in and get unpacked, but I’m starving. Those airline meals never taste like what they’re supposed to be, so I thought I’d wait until I got to the hotel. Is this a pretty good place to eat?

I was so nervous that I felt like I should continue to chatter. Do you come here often? I can’t believe how crowded it is. I had to fight for my life to get through the door and then had to wage another battle to get to the restaurant. One lady out there in that mess had two children that were practically being smothered by the time she got out. What are you doing in New York?

As I was chattering and asking these questions, I had pulled up a chair and sat down on the same side of the table as ‘Linda,’ in keeping with an enjoyable long time no see tete-a-tete with an old high school friend.

Actually this is my first time here, but I’ve heard that it attracts a large amount of out-of-towners because it’s a nice place with reasonable rates and good food. I’m here today because I have an appointment a few doors down and someone told me about the Chinese salad they serve here. Good thing I chose this place or I would have missed seeing you again. She was drinking a glass of iced tea that looked very good. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until I saw that tall, cold glass of iced tea.

What brings you to New York or do you live here now?

Oh, no, me live in New York? I’m just a small town girl who’s completely out of her element right now. My husband gave me the trip as a birthday present. He knows that I love to shop and our little town in our down home state doesn’t have much to entice a person, and I’ve always been curious about New York City, so here I am. How about you?

I live here now. It’s not much for friendliness, but, you’re right, it makes up for it in shopping opportunities. So you got married and moved away from Chicago?

Actually, I moved back to the town my family came from to take a job with a veterinarian after I got an AA degree in Animal Husbandry. Actually, I married the brother of one of my best friends, Sarah. She came into my life after the move back home, so you wouldn’t know her.

The waitress approached the table, and I ordered a Chinese salad and a glass of iced tea. After she had taken our orders and walked away, Anastasia said, Luckily I came here today or we would have missed each other. I almost didn’t, but the cab got stuck in a big traffic jam right in front of the lobby, so I jumped out and came on in. My God, you look different. I remember you as this little chubby girl who sat in the back of the class, squinting to see the blackboard.

Knowing Anastasia’s sense of humor, I gritted my teeth, I said, No, actually, I was the tall, willowy girl in the second seat from the window. You remember me! I always knew the answer before the teacher was through asking the questions? We laughed at our banter, knowing that I was neither one of the girls we were describing. I was the girl who sat next to the window, while Anastasia sat next to the door. That way the teacher could tell who was who. But sometimes, we switched clothes and identities, and the teachers never figured out what we were doing. Anastasia liked to sit next to the door, so she could be the first one out of the room for lunch and the first one out of the door at the end of the day. School was not fun for her.

Anastasia was trying to be funny and I was not going to let her get the best of me. I finally steered the conversation back to today and how things were going with the two of us.

I asked her, What have you been doing all these years?

She nonchalantly took a drink of her iced tea as the waitress put our salads down and told us she hoped we would enjoy our lunch. I tried to steer the conversation back in the direction it was headed before the interruption. To no avail! Anastasia interrupted me to say, Let’s see, where were we? Oh, yes, you were going to tell me about what’s been happening in your life, weren’t you?

Giving her the evil eye, I said, "Well, I already told you that I’m married. We live on our family acreage. Kevin inherited it when his parents passed away. It’s out of town, but we like it. We built a new house with six bedrooms and three bathrooms there, and we have three children, two boys, Jarrod and Jacob and a girl, Daisy.

Good for Daisy! For a minute there, I thought you were one of those obnoxious mothers who name her children with names that all start with the same letter. Thank goodness for Daisy to break the chain.

I almost named her Janis, but Kevin thought it should be Daisy. Kevin’s a policeman, and I still work part time for the veterinarian. That about wraps up my life since school days! How about you?

Oh, same old, same old! I do have a little boy named Nicholas, and I’m married to an Italian Stallion. We both laughed at that. No one around us could know that was an inside joke.

Sounds like you made your life work for you.

Yes, well, things are good.

I wanted her to know that Mom and Dad had died in the last few years, but she hadn’t mentioned them and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to talk about them or not. So of course, I chanced it, and said, Do you remember the Perkins, the friends of my mother and father? They both died this summer. You know how attached they were. First, Julia died and then Robert died not too long afterward. I knew that Anastasia would remember that the Perkins farm had been abandoned for years, but that before that, the Perkin’s farm had belonged to Mom’s family.

Anastasia was silent for a long time while she digested what I said. I stole a quick glance and saw tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Quickly, I changed the subject. Oh, I said, do you remember Becky? That chubby little girl that rode the bus home with us every day? Well, she married some guy she met in high school. Anyway, I saw her on the street one day a month or two ago, and I hardly recognized her. She has three kids, one in arms and two hanging onto her dress. She married some guy she met at a dance one night. She looks very happy. You remember her, don’t you? She turned into a regular butterfly. Becky had been Anastasia’s best friend throughout our school years.

Actually, Daisy, I don’t remember much about those years. I was in so many foster homes that I don’t remember who and when I lived with whom. I don’t even remember my real last name and there doesn’t seem to be any records, so I can’t even find out things I’d really like to know about myself. I remember an Aunt Beth, but I don’t even know if we were really related or if she was just a good friend of my mother’s and she got stuck raising me. After she died, my life became a big blur of foster home after foster home. I wish I knew more about who I was then. I can’t even remember who I was living with when I knew you.

I knew that Anastasia was spouting that past for anyone who might be listening in, so I let it go by without comment. We talked a few minutes more about this and that, nothing that I wanted to hear was said, and I couldn’t say any of the things I wanted to say to her after all these years, but Anastasia had been very adamant about not saying anything that might give away the fact that we were sisters, let alone identical twins. I had to let her lead the conversation. I finally said to her, You’re a lot thinner than you were. Still trying to get that model figure? Anastasia answered, Close, but no cigar.

While we talked, men, women, and children had been milling around the table, brushing up against our arms, tripping over our chairs, hitting us in the back with their purses. I began to feel like a battering ram, but Linda acted as though this was a normal occurrence. The fourth time I had been nudged by a purse, I said to Linda, That’s the fourth time somebody has jabbed me in the back with a purse, elbow, or what have you. Is this normal in New York? I can’t believe that people actually live like this. Where’s your space?

Linda laughed and said, Life is very different in the city, but if you remember I grew up in Chicago, so it’s a lot the same. People are in a big hurry all the time. It takes so long to get from one place to another, and you have to depend on cabs, busses, or the subway to get you there. You can’t just get in a car and get to an appointment in 15 minutes. Most people living in New York don’t even own a car. Most of these people eating here work in the area where they live and are on their half hour lunch breaks, which out of necessity lasts an hour. There are a lot of tourists here today; plus I think there are a couple of conventions going on here in this hotel. All together, it’s chaos. I was inclined to agree with her about that.

Well, I see by the clock that it’s time for me to go. It was good seeing you again, Daisy. She reached over and took my hand, squeezed it and stood up, letting her free hand drift across my keys that were lying on the table. I sat there with a smile glued to my face and an ache in my heart. I had hoped that something else would happen. I had hoped that she would leave me knowing that everything was okay; that we would be able to talk openly; that we would be able to be sisters again; that maybe she was ready to come home.

Oh, Linda, I’ve been writing poetry now and then. You remember I always loved to write poetry? Well, I have a copy of a poem I wrote about Daisies. I don’t know how good it is, but I’d like you to have a copy. Let me know what you think. I handed her the copy of the poem I had found in an album that belonged to our Grandmother Elizabeth. It was a beautiful poem and I wanted Anastasia to have it, as a reminder of home.

With that, she took the poem from my hand, smiled, arranged her coat on her thin arms, put her sunglasses on and walked away. I looked at her back as she walked out of the restaurant and began her fight to the doorway. I had this horrible feeling that I might never see her again.

Linda! I called to her, wanting to stall and savor every minute. She stopped a few feet from the table and looked back at me, as a large group of people ebbed and flowed around her.

Yes, Daisy? she called, looking back at me. Still keeping up the facade under which we had met, I told her, Give me your number and I’ll call you next time I’m in New York. Looking at her watch, she smiled her crooked smile again, and said, I’m in the book. I’m running late for my appointment. She smiled again and was gone. She was in the book? I didn’t even know what her last name was, how could I look her up in the book? It was her way of telling me, I couldn’t call her, she had to get in touch with me.

Following the plan established earlier by Anastasia in the letter I had received from her a couple weeks before this day, I sat at the table and finished my salad and iced tea, looked at my watch a couple of times, and then stood, reaching under the table for my purse and ‘discovering’ a knitting bag where Linda had left it. I grabbed it up, grabbed my purse, ran to the door, looked both ways and walked slowly back to the table where the waitress was standing, wondering what had happened to her two non-paying customers.

I picked up the tab, looked at the amount, and handed the waitress two $20.00 bills. When the waitress’ attention shifted to her money belt, I picked up my rental car keys I had left lying on the table, hoping that Anastasia had the opportunity to leave her set of keys mingled with mine. I continued talking the whole time about my friend forgetting her knitting bag and that we had not been trying to ‘dine and dash.’

The waitress looked at me doubtfully, but I let her keep the change from the twenties, so she didn’t seem to care about anything else after that. She even managed a smile. She walked back toward the main part of the restaurant and my eyes followed her as she did. A man two tables down from where Anastasia and I had been sitting was looking at me with a strange expression on his face. During my visit with Anastasia, I noticed he had been reading a newspaper, but by this time he had put the opened paper down on the table. He hadn’t appeared to be interested in either one of us or our conversation while Anastasia was still at the table. He couldn’t have heard our conversation from that distance, but he still looked suspicious to me. I let my eyes pass over him without expressing any interest in him either.

He stood up, stretched, and walked directly toward me, leaving the newspaper and his briefcase on the floor next to the table. As he approached me where I was rooted to the floor, he winked at me. Then he stopped and asked me if I was new in town. I told him I was just passing through. He said he couldn’t help noticing me and my beautiful black hair. He’d always admired women with black hair.

He pointedly looked at my ring finger and, playfully, he asked me if I was staying at this hotel. I began to think this was turning into a pass, but I wasn’t sure because of Anastasia’s warning about the people who might be watching us. I kept looking at my watch and then scanning the crowd that still milled around the front desk. I said, Oh, I think that’s the friend I’m meeting, and I turned around and walked away. I tried to make a dignified exit, but it became a push and shove affair with me gaining a foot and losing two. I snuck a peak behind me and saw the man go back to his