Page 10 of The Stranger in the Mirror

“But it’s almost nine thousand dollars,” Addison said, looking stricken. “I’m not sure I’d be comfortable wearing a dress that cost so much.”

It was a struggle to contain her frustration, but Blythe did her best. “I understand,” she said, and turned to Philippa. “I think we’re interested in seeing some gowns that are more in the one-or two-thousand-dollar range.” She looked at Addison. “How does that sound?”

“I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think I’m ungrateful, because I’m not. You and Ted have been wonderful. It’s just...” She looked at the floor, and Blythe could tell that she was trying not to cry.

“It’s fine, Addison. We’ll find a dress you love and then have a nice lunch. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” Addison said, still looking upset.

After trying on eleven more gowns, Addison finally settled on a similar style at a much-reduced price. She looked lovely in it, because she would look wonderful in anything, Blythe thought,but it had none of the elegance and sophistication of the Carolina Herrera gown.

“It’s really pretty, Addy. I like it,” Hailey said, rising and stepping up on the platform to get a closer look.

“You do?”

Hailey smiled, taking both of Addison’s hands in hers and holding them out as if to get a better look at the dress. “Absolutely. It’s perfect for you.”

Blythe sat quietly and watched the two of them. They seemed to have a great deal in common, not least of which was their shared love of animals, and Hailey had recruited Addison to volunteer with her at the SPCA. It was clear that they had the kind of connection that Blythe had so far failed to achieve with her prospective daughter-in-law, and that bothered her. She adored both of her children and had always envisioned a close relationship with whoever they married, and she knew she’d have had that with Darcy, who was so warm and affectionate. Addison seemed—aloofwas the wrong word—more like fearful of revealing too much, of getting too close. Blythe sighed, inwardly chastising herself for being so critical. Maybe in time things would improve.

She watched as Hailey touched the row of satin buttons on one of the dress’s sleeves. As the fabric shifted slightly, Addison jerked her hand away, but it was too late. Both Hailey and Blythe had seen the jagged scar starting at her wrist. Dear God, Blythe thought. What terrible things are hiding in this young woman’s past?

− 11 −

Addison

I tap lightly on the screen door and lean closer to look for Gigi in the kitchen. “Anybody home?” I call, and open the door. As I enter, Gigi rushes into the room.

“Hi. Come and sit. How’d it go yesterday? Did you pick a dress? I’m so sorry I had to work. I wish I could have gone with you.”

“Me too. We chose the dress. But I was careless.”

Gigi frowns. “Careless? What do you mean?”

“Blythe and Hailey saw the scar on my arm,” I tell her.

Gigi sits back in her chair and purses her lips. “What did Blythe say?”

“Nothing.” I bite my lip and look at the floor. “But I saw the expression on her face.” I look back up at Gigi. “I know she’s leery of me. I can’t really blame her. I’m leery of me too. I know eventually I’ll have to tell her about my scars—I can’t wear long sleeves forever. But I really wanted to wait until she knew me better and would be apt to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“I don’t believe she would ever hold this against you, Addy,” Gigi says kindly. “She seems like a good person.”

“She is. And I give her a lot of credit that despite her inevitable reservations, she’s doing her best to make me feel welcome. The least I can do is try to show her that I appreciate all she wants to do for us. It’s the reason that I’m going along with this big wedding, even though all that attention is the last thing I want.”

Gigi cocks her head. “Try to think of it simply as a day whenthe people who love and care about you and Gabriel want to support you and share your happiness.”

I get up and pour myself a glass of water, then lean against the counter to face her. “Some days I don’t know why I even agreed to marry Gabriel. He’s a great guy. Good-looking, kind, funny. I love him, or at least I think I do. But do I even know what love really is?”

“There you go again. Overthinking. You don’t have to dissect love and put it under a microscope.”

“But why is that a bad thing to do? It’s all I have, really. I can’t look back over my life and judge what I’ve done right and what I’ve done wrong, what choices I’ve made.” What I don’t say is that I feel like an impostor who has taken up life in a body that used to belong to someone else. I can’t stop agonizing over what could have caused me to try and take my life. Or maybe it’s possible that someone else is responsible for the slashes. That question keeps me up nights, and the fact that it doesn’t keep Gabriel up keeps me up even longer.

I got so lucky when Ed picked me up. When I think about it, that situation could have ended in a very different way. A young woman with no identification and no memory, hitchhiking. And I think of how Gigi’s medical knowledge might have saved my life, too. When we arrived at the house, it felt like a hammer was pounding on my head, but I was more afraid of being taken to a psych ward somewhere than dying. Gigi put an arm around my waist, and as we walked to the car, she kept repeating that everything was going to be fine and that she wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. I still remember how her voice sounded in my ear, so gentle and reassuring.

At the hospital they gave me every test imaginable: MRI, CT scan, blood tests to check for infection, an electroencephalogramfor possible seizure activity, even a gynecological examination. A psychiatrist asked me lots of questions, some of which I could answer but most of which I couldn’t. I felt so afraid and lost as I was wheeled from one test room to another, put inside clanging machines in dark spaces. It was terrifying. And then the diagnosis, which I could have told them myself: retrograde amnesia, the inability to recall any events that occurred before the development of the amnesia. Memory wiped clean.

I went home with them as soon as I was released and stayed in the guest room the first few months. Gigi is so wise. I think she realized that I couldn’t be alone at the beginning, but as I gained confidence, it would be good to have autonomy and a little space.

“I was thinking that you might like to have a place of your own,” she said one morning at breakfast.

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