We’d come to a stop in the corridor. The librarian glanced behind me uneasily.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, looking over my shoulder, but not seeing anything out of place behind me.
“Elizabeth Madaster was the head of the charitable organization that spearheaded the building of this library. Did you know that?” the librarian asked me, her tone gentle. Cautious?
“I didn’t. I did know she was very involved philanthropically.” A thought occurred to me. “Does that mean you knew her?”
The librarian nodded.
“But you do realize that you and she—” She waved her hand circularly in the vicinity of her chin, giving me a pointed look.
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” I told her with a nervous laugh.
“I may as well show you,” she said after a pause, pointing behind me and walking in that direction. “You’ll find out soon enough when you look at the microfilm.”
I followed her fifteen or so feet down the corridor. A low row of bookshelves ran along the length of the hallway. Above the bookshelves, various commemorative plaques and photos associated with the library had been mounted on the wall.
“This is a photo of Elizabeth Madaster,” the librarian said, turning to watch my reaction. “You can see why I assumed… ”
I looked into the dark blue eyes of the woman in the photograph.
Everything seemed to fly away from me. Only the photo and my body remained fixed in time and space.
The woman in the portrait was myself.
Chapter Fourteen
Someone was talking, even though the speech was insignificant, like the patter of raindrops on the window during an earthquake.
The first urge that rose up powerfully inside me was to laugh.
I’d been so caught up, so consumed by all my insecurities about Elizabeth. Every time I’d fantasized about what she was like, the camera in my brain remained unfocused. I glimpsed her enigmatic smile before she turned away in my imagination, or experienced the magnetic, dreaded allure of her dark sexuality. I breathed her, that’s how omnipresent she was at Les Jumeaux… or when I was with my husband…
When we were in our bed.
Always in my imaginings, she was more than. I stood in her shadow.
But I’d never once dreamt that my appeal to Evan was that I was her.
Not completely, of course. No one could ever truly fill her shoes. But the photo I stared at could have been a glamour shot of me—a more polished, more confident, slightly older version of Anna Solas with shoulder-length hair.
If it weren’t for the age difference, we might have been identical twins.
“Damn. I shouldn’t have shown you, should I have?” I blinked and focused on the librarian’s face. Her eyes were wide with alarm.
It felt as if an hour had passed as I stared at her face in the portrait, but it was more likely just the longest minute I’d ever lived. I realized vaguely the librarian had been speaking to me the whole time, and that her lined face appeared very concerned.
“Of course you should have shown me,” I said, my voice sounding surprisingly level.
“You… you honestly didn’t know, did you?”
“No, I had no idea.”
“But your interest in the Madaster family? I just figured it was related.”
I’m interested in Elizabeth Madaster because she’s my husband’s former wife. I’m obsessed with her because she’s my husband’s obsession. Apparently, he chose me on an Internet dating site because of Elizabeth. He’s married me because I’m her physical double.
Everything I thought was true sixty seconds ago, including the fact that my husband loved me for who I am, is now a complete and utter lie.