Ricky stood rooted to the floor as he watched the scene play out in front of him. If only he could have figured out a way to stop it, to hold back the tide that was washing over them all.
He'd pulled up out front and there she was, leaning into the driver's side of a little Nissan parked at the curb. He didn't recognize the car, but it had hardly registered through the thrill of anticipation he'd had at seeing her again, over the chance to greet her out here by herself rather than in front of her whole family inside. "Hey there, Georgy Girl," he'd called to her as he'd slid out of his truck, hoping she'd turn and make a mad dash into his arms.
She'd straightened, but kept her back to him, almost as though she hadn't heard him. She worked her fingers through her long hair, combing out the worst of the tangles as he'd seen her do so many times before.
"Gia!" he called again as he sauntered up the street toward her.
Then she stiffened, and ever so slowly, turned around.
The shock had just about knocked him off his feet. Not Gia, not in a million years, but in some strange twisted way, it was her. Like another dimension Gia. A clone experiment that had veered off to the left a little. There was nothing innately wrong with this one—all the parts added up, the hair, the body, the skin, the eyes—it just wasn't her. "Who—where's Gia?" he asked. As soon as the question was out, he realized how stupid it sounded. This wasn't a science fiction movie with body snatchers or aliens on the loose. He approached her slowly and she took a step backward into the protection of her open car door. "Sorry," he said. "I thought you were someone else."
"That's all right." She sounded exactly like Gia, too. Ricky squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
"Um, can I... help you with something?" What could he ask her without sounding terribly rude? Surely, if Gia knew about this girl, she would have mentioned her to him, warned him.
"Oh. Well, maybe." The girl's nervousness was evident in the way she shifted her weight back and forth, the way she tugged a curl forward and toyed with the end of it, things Gia did, too. "I'm here to see the Gustafsons." She darted a glance toward the front of the house. "This is where they live, right?"
Ricky nodded. "Are they expecting you?" His mind was still having trouble putting the whole thing together. Gramps just got home. Why would they have company today while he was still sick?
The girl frowned self-consciously. "Um, no. I should have called first, but I—" She broke off as thought reconsidering what she'd been about to say. Then she sighed deeply and her shoulders drooped like she was carrying the weight of a heavy burden. "I should have called."
Ricky stepped closer and stuck out his hand. "I'm Ricky. Gia's friend."
"Oh. Hi, Ricky. I'm, um, Cheryl Wiley." She shrugged, an apologetic grimace marring her features, but she shook his hand. Her eyes, he noticed, although eerily familiar to him, were terribly sad. "I don't know who Gia is. I'm sorry."
It was the strangest thing in the world to be standing here in front of Gia's house, talking to a woman who looked and sounded like Gia, whose hand even felt like Gia's hand in his, and yet she didn't know who Gia was. "Gia Gustafson. She's a Gustafson."
"Of course," Cheryl nodded, but Ricky was pretty sure she was just being polite, that she still had no clue who he was talking about.
He shoved his hands in his pocket, warring between offering to escort her to the front door to greet the family and drilling her to find out why she was here, what her intentions were. Some unspoken fear had risen up in him when she'd turned around, something that made him feel protective of this family he cared for so deeply. "So you're here to see...?" He turned the statement into a question, hoping he didn't sound rude, but opting for caution.
"Henry and Sarah Gustafson. And their granddaughters. Although they might not remember me." She smoothed her hair back over her shoulder and glanced away again, but he didn't miss the glimmer of moisture in her eyes. "It's been so long."
"But you don't know Gia?"
"I was pretty young the last time I was here. Just a little girl." She frowned, and then a strange look came over her face. "Wait. Is Gia... maybe Georgia?" Her eyes lit up momentarily. "Of course. Yes. Gia." She swallowed hard and then lifted her gaze to his. He almost stepped back at the intensity in her eyes. "Is she here? Georgia?"
"She goes by Gia," he said, wondering too late if he should have mentioned her at all. But then, what was he supposed to do when this woman who could have been her twin sister stood not five feet away from him?
"Oh. Okay. I'll remember that." Cheryl took a step forward, making him move out of her way. She closed her car door and squared her shoulders. "I've come a long way to see her," she said, and started toward the sidewalk. "To see all of them."
Ricky lurched into motion, catching up with her in a few strides. "Um, Gramps just got home from the hospital maybe an hour ago. This might not be a good time if they're not expecting you."
Cheryl paused, and the shook her head. "I should have called. You're right. But I can't leave now." Her voice grew tight, choked with tears that were beginning to pool in her eyes. "I can't leave without knowing—without seeing them." Then she swiped at her cheeks with her fingertips and started up the walk, determination in every step.
He didn't know what to say, what to do. In a quandary, he trailed after her, trying to imagine how this would all play out. By the time they'd reached the front porch, he was desperate to act, even though he remained at a complete loss. "Let me go first," he urged, stepping around her just as she pushed the doorbell.
He should have stopped her. He should have been more determined himself. He should have paid attention to his gut instinct that this was going to turn out badly for everyone.
No one had gone after Gia; they were all too busy trying to process the lookalike who still remained in the room. Although he desperately wanted to stay and learn who she was, he decided if no one went to see to Gia, he would.
"Please, Cheryl," Gramps said. "Come in, child." He stepped forward and offered her his hand. She shook it and smiled tentatively up at the old man. Granny G rose and came forward, too, but instead of shaking Cheryl's hand, she opened her arms and gave the girl a gentle hug.
"I'm sorry for my initial reaction. You caught me by surprise, dear."
"No, no," Cheryl began, taking Granny G's hand in both of her own. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have called, but I didn't have your number. The only one I had was Paul and Simone's."
Small noises of surprise—shock?—reverberated around the room at the mention of those names, but the grandparents seemed to take it all in stride. "We understand," Granny G said. But she withdrew her hand from the girl's grip, and for the first time, Ricky saw what looked like fear in the old woman's eyes. What was going on?
Gramps gestured toward the chair where Tim had been sitting. "Won't you have a seat, Cheryl?" He waited until she made her way into the room and lowered herself to the edge of the cushion, and then he returned to his recliner, although he stayed upright, his feet planted on the floor, his hands braced on the arms of the chair. "It's really quite remarkable to see you again."
That was one way to put it.
"I'm going to go check on Gia," Ricky interjected, but as he turned to leave, Trevor stopped him.
"Hold up, man." Trevor nodded toward the door. "Maybe you and I should head out and give the family some privacy."
"Whoa. Hold up, yourself, buddy." It was Phoebe. "You, my love, are family. And so is he." She waved her paint splattered hand at Ricky. "You're not going anywhere." She circled Trevor and put a hand on Ricky's arm. "I'll go get Gia. You two stay. And if I miss anything, I'll expect a full report." The last, she directed to Renata. "Take notes if you have to. This ought to be good."
Ricky's eyes widened when he heard the anger in her voice, and when he saw it reflected in her expression, he knew for certain that Phoebe was not going to let Gia face this alone. It was also pretty evident that Gia was not alone in her ignorance, that none of the sisters knew about this Cheryl person. Juliette had moved to stand beside her new husband, and Tim, having sensed something from his wife, had handed her a sleeping Charise, and was just now returning from ushering the boys into the grandparents' room where they could watch television on the big bed. Reuben and Simon had complained quietly about missing out, but knowing Renata, she'd fill her boys in on things once she'd gotten the scoop. She wasn't one of those moms who hid stuff from her kids. At least not anymore.
Granny G made her way to the other armchair and eyed the group. "Please, kids. Someone take the couch. You don't all need to stand." After a long moment's hesitation, Vic led Juliette to the sofa and sat beside her, an arm around her shoulders.
Ricky stood with Trevor by the entrance to the hallway, but he wasn't so sure Gia would come out with Phoebe. He'd seen the look on her face, and truth be told, it scared him. When she'd pushed him away and wouldn't let him touch her, he'd wanted to argue with her, to remind her that this whole thing wasn't his doing, that he'd been caught in the blast, too.
"Did you drive here?" Gramps asked Cheryl, obviously struggling for a way to begin the conversation.
"I did. I drove down yesterday." Cheryl darted glances around the room as she spoke, but otherwise, her eyes stayed glued to the floor at her feet. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't know how else to do this."
She sounded small, vulnerable, and it tore at Ricky's heart because she sounded so much like Gia.
"I know it must sound so selfish to you, but I had to see you. See her. I didn't know... before."
Ricky saw a tear land on the back of Cheryl's hands where they rested in her lap. "He didn't tell—"
Phoebe slipped into the room, interrupting Cheryl's quiet plea. "She won't come out," she said. "But she's agreed to leave the door open, so you all had better speak up." Phoebe aimed her gaze at her grandfather. "I know you're sick, Gramps, but that girl in there—" Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "She might just be mortally wounded, so this better be good."
Ricky then remembered the part of Phoebe's story that had bothered Gia so much, how Gramps had automatically taken Renata's side against Phoebe, assuming the worst of her just like everyone else did. It had been only the beginning of Phoebe's nightmare, because although the crime committed against her that night had been horrific, her grandfather's abandonment had been a near-mortal wound to her heart that had led to years of unnecessary suffering. How different things might have been had he looked past his anger and frustration to see the pain Phoebe was suffering. Last year when Phoebe finally unraveled the dark shroud that had covered her secrets all these years, the old man had wept openly, and apologized for his part in her suffering, but Ricky could understand why Phoebe, of all the girls, was not going to stand by and let Gia be abandoned in the same way.
Nor would he. "I'm going to sit with her," he said, his voice firm, solemn. Then turning to Phoebe, he added, "I'll let you know if we can't hear."