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

  Mirrored Images

  Copyright (c) 2005 by Michelle Larks

  ISBN: 0-9773043-042-033

  Cover art and design (c) 2006 by Jinger Heaston

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law.

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  DEDICATION/ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  In all thy way acknowledge God, and he will direct thy path. That text is my mantra, and all praises to my father above.

  This book is dedicated to my husband Fredrick, without him, there would be no me, and no writing.

  Prologue

  Twenty-five Years Prior

  “But Mom, it’s my top.” Melissa shrieked as she attempted to pull the blue tank top from her sister’s grasping hands. “Stop it, Moni.” They stood in the hallway between their bedrooms.

  Moniqa rolled her eyes at Melissa, then feinted to her right and triumphantly snatched the wisp of cotton from her sibling’s hand. Fake tears glistened in her eyes as their mother Vanessa walked toward them.

  Moniqa turned to her mother. “Don’t you remember I asked for the blue top, Mommy, when we went to Nordstrom’s last month.” Copious tears flowed from Moniqa’s red face. “I don’t know why Melissa always wants what I have.” Moniqa wailed, stomping her tiny, white Nike-clad foot.

  Vanessa glared at one daughter then the other. Her right foot clicked impatiently on the shiny, wooden parquet floor as if taps were glued to the soles of her shoes. The clacking was a sure sign that she’d had enough of her daughters bickering. Her arms were folded across her chest. Her mouth was pursed as if she’d just eaten prunes. She glared balefully at Melissa. “Hmm… I do seem to remember Moniqa asking for the blue tank. If my memory doesn’t fail me, Melissa, I bought the purple one for you.”

  Vanessa rubbed her temples rapidly. “I am not up to dealing with your squabbling right now. The blue one is Moniqa’s.” Vanessa rolled her eyes, turned on her heel, and returned to her bedroom down the hallway. She slammed the door shut.

  * * *

  Fifteen Years later

  The telephone rang loud and shrilly, interrupting Melissa Adams’ recurrent dream. She shook her head from side to side as if to push the reverie to the outer recesses of her mind. Melissa picked up the receiver and hesitantly said, “Hello?”

  “Mel?” Melissa’s cousin Bernard, nicknamed Bobo, whispered softly, “You up?”

  “Whatever would give you that idea?” Melissa grumbled, turning on her left side in the oak four-poster bed. She pushed her hair away from her forehead as she glanced at the clock on the nightstand. The luminous red numbers read 4:00 am. “I know you’d better have a good reason for calling me this early in the morning.”

  “Trust me, I have a very good one,” Bobo replied portentously.

  Melissa’s heart flip-flopped. “It’s not Mommy is it…”

  “No, it’s not about Aunt Van. Not this time anyway. Hell, she’ll probably outlive all of us. Mel are you sitting down?”

  “Try lying down, just spit it out, Bobo. What’s the problem?”

  “Well… It’s Jeremiah. You know he hasn’t been well. To be honest J is not doing too good at all.”

  “As in how or what Bobo?” Melissa asked nonchalantly, trying to mask the alarm that seemed to infuse her veins at the seriousness of her cousin’s tone.

  “J was diagnosed with cancer,” Bobo replied soberly.

  “What kind of cancer? How long? When did you find out? I can’t believe you’re just now telling me.” The questions burst from Melissa’s mouth like rockets bursting in air.

  “You know J. He didn’t divulge the seriousness of his condition until a few weeks ago. At that point, he was still waiting on test results. I didn’t see a need to mention it you until we knew something definite. The problem is that his cancer had metastasized quicker than J let on. He has bone marrow cancer. The hospital where he works, as well as his family members, have been searching for donors for a while now. Unsuccessfully I might add. You and I both know someone who might fit and be able to help him. That dear cousin of mine is why I am calling you this time of the morning.”

  “Bobo, are you out of your mind?” Melissa shrieked as she sat upright. Her suddenly weak legs dangled lifelessly over the side of the bed. “I am no longer a part of the Adams family. Their concerns are not mine, especially Moniqa’s. The truth is, I haven’t been since Daddy passed away. There are times when I wonder if I ever was. My heart goes out to J but there is nothing I can do to help either one of them.”

  “Sure there is. J needs a bone marrow match and you and I both know someone who might fit the bill. This is not the time to get all high and mighty on me. J’s health is a matter of life and death. If someone can’t be located soon, he’s doing to die,” Bobo informed Melissa brutally. “I know you wouldn’t want that on your conscience now, would you?” Bobo and Melissa were best friends as well as confidants. He knew which buttons to push. “That pretty much sums things up.”

  “Excuse me,” Melissa said bitterly. “J has an adult son, surely he must qualify as a donor. There is no need in the world for me to involve myself or anyone else for that matter. I am sure Moniqa will do everything humanly possible to insure her husband’s survival.”

  Melissa reached over to the nightstand adjacent to her bed and pulled out a rumpled pack of green Benson & Hedges cigarettes for emergency situations. Her hands shook wildly as she lit the cigarette. The lighter slipped from her hand onto her beige and burgundy Laura Ashley floral comforter. Her eyes strayed about her bedroom decorated with matching wallpaper and window treatments, then to the opened mini-blinds. The rising sunlight seemed to shimmer over Lake Michigan.

  Melissa’s eyes stopped at the picture of herself and J with silly grins on their faces. The frame sat on her nightstand. The snapshot had been taken over twenty years ago when they attended college.

  “Well, its time I brought you up to snuff on the Adams’ family happenings,” Bobo said. “Scuttlebutt has it that Jay isn’t J’s child. He was tested for a tissue match a few months ago and the blood types didn’t gibe. It seems Moniqa’s house is made of straw and the big bad wolf is about to blow it down.” Bobo cackled. “The last I heard, she and J are separated. So that’s why he needs your help.”

  “Oh, my God,” Melissa said in disbelief, rocking back and forth as smoke poured from her open mouth. “I don’t believe it.” She laid the cigarette precariously on the edge of the nightstand and fell trembling into the bed.

  “Trust me. I wouldn’t make up something like this,” Bobo replied heatedly. “Have I ever lied to you about something this important?” Bobo didn’t sound sure if he’d adequately conveyed the seriousness of J’s condition to his cousin.

  “Hmm… I can remember a time or two,” Melissa replied sarcastically.

  “Not when it really mattered,” Bobo countered soberly. “I know this is a lot for you to absorb. Believe me, girl, when I say you’re the last resort. J’s doesn’t have a clue that I’m talking to you. I want you to think about what I’ve said, Mel. I’ll drop by and see you after work this evening. I’m hoping you come through an
d do the right thing.”

  “Make sure you come over later rather than early. I have a late meeting this afternoon at work, and I’m not sure what time I’ll get home.”

  “Sure, cuz.” Bobo hung up the telephone.

  Melissa held the telephone to her ear until the record message sounded. If you would like to make a call… She dropped the receiver listlessly. “My God, what should I do?” Melissa massaged the sides of her head. She noticed the smoldering cigarette on the nightstand, nearly burned to the end. She picked it up, opened the nightstand drawer, and pulled out a red ceramic ashtray, and laid the cigarette on it after taking a long drag.

  A myriad of emotions volleyed around her head as she slowly processed the information Bobo had passed on to her. It was a good possibility that J, the love of her life and her twin sister’s husband, was dying.

  Chapter One

  Seventeen-year-old Melissa Adams sat alone silently weeping in the second row of pews on the right side of a chapel in the A. R. Leak Funeral Home. The mortuary was one of the largest and most prestigious in the Chicago land area. It was located on south Cottage Grove Avenue.

  Melissa’s father, Nathan Adams’, visitation service was in progress. Her eyes were fixed on her father’s body as he rested in a white satin-lined, bronze coffin. He seemed to be surrounded by millions of flowers even though the family had requested donations be given to charities in lieu of flowers.

  He lay peacefully in repose, in a brown suit, white shirt and a beige and red paisley tie. His arms were draped across his chest. Instrumental gospel music was being continuously piped into the chapel.

  Melissa, Nate’s oldest child by all of two and half minutes, almost expected him to get up and say, “Gal, why you looking so sad? Let’s go to Baskin Robbins and get ice cream cones. That’ll cheer my girl up.” She could hear his dark, booming voice in her mind, see the crinkly smile that formed a wreath around his face and smell his Brut cologne.

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. She twisted the handkerchief balled in her left hand. Though the atmosphere was solemn and hushed, a crescendo of voices rose and fell in intervals.

  On the other side of the chapel, Melissa’s mother Vanessa was in her social element. The well-off widow accepted offers of condolences from the many mourners in attendance. Moniqa, Melissa’s twin sister, sat chatting with a group of her friends near the rear of the room.

  Tears tiptoed down Melissa’s face. She quickly brushed them aside as she caught sight of her mother’s eyes staring her way. Vanessa shook her head warningly, telegraphing a tacit signal to her daughter. I won’t have it. Stop your sniveling. You are an Adams, act accordingly.

  Bobo slid into the pew next to Melissa. He rubbed the top of her back consoling. “How you holding up, cuz? Is there anything I can do to help?” He looked grown-up in a navy-blue suit, white shirt, and red tie, with navy-colored Stacy Adams shoes.

  She shook her head sorrowfully. “There isn’t anything you or anyone can do unless you’re Jesus Christ and can raise Daddy from the dead.”

  “Well girl, I may be a lot of things but Jesus I ain’t.” Bobo smiled, trying to cheer her up. “Hang in there. It’ll get better.”

  “Who have you been talking to Nana or somebody?”

  “Naw. That’s what they always say at funerals,” Bobo quipped.

  Melissa stole a look over her shoulder at Vanessa. She was smiling politely at the words of condolences offered by a guest. Beautifully made-up and wearing the finest mourning outfit money could buy, Vanessa made sure she looked her best as she sent her husband on his final journey home.

  “I don’t understand Mom and Moni,” Melissa complained, shaking her head from side to side. ”They act like they’re at a social function or something. Am I the only one here who misses Daddy? God, I still can’t believe he’s gone.” Tears poured down her face.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Mel. You know how they are, especially Aunt Van. All I can say is that I’m here for you as well as Grandma Nan.

  “Thanks, Bobo.” Melissa smiled through her tears, grabbing his hand. She sat straighter in her seat. Grandma Nan walked into the pew and sat on Melissa’s other side. She had a tissue in her hand and dabbed her wet eyes. “How’s Grandma’s baby?”

  “Nana, I still can’t believe my daddy is gone. I see him lying so peacefully there like he is asleep. I want to go and poke him in his side until he wakes up. It hurts, Nana, right here.” Melissa’s hand fluttered to her throat. “The pain of our loss wants to come out, but I know I can’t, not now, and especially not here.”

  “I know how you feel, Mel,” Nancy said sadly. “That’s my only child laying up there. I always thought I’d go before him, not the other way around. In the long run, we have no choice but to accept God’s will. One day it’ll get better. Time heals all wounds.”

  “I feel like running up there and pulling Daddy out of that coffin.” Melissa sobbed, leaning into her grandmother’s side. “I know I can’t because Mommy would kill me. She’s already instructed Moni and I a million times already not to do anything that would embarrass her or make the family name look bad. So I’m trying to hold in the storm that wants to rage. Nana, it wants to come out something fierce.” Mel sobbed louder as she grabbed Nana by the neck.

  As if conjured up by magic, Vanessa magically appeared behind them. “What do you think you’re doing?” she enunciated perfectly to Melissa, smiling all the while. Her pearly, white teeth, courtesy of many orthodontist visits, sparkled.

  A few people stared their way. Vanessa, aware of the eyes boring into her back, patted Melissa on the arm as if she were comforting her daughter. “Please behave yourself accordingly, Melissa. We Adams are pillars of the African American community. Your daddy wouldn’t want you to do anything to bring shame upon the family name.”

  “Hump…” Grandma Nana snorted, glaring at Vanessa. Her black hat slid a fraction down her head. “Leave the child be, Vanessa. Don’t you realize how much she’s hurting and misses her daddy?”

  “Nancy, I wouldn’t expect you to understand the proper protocol for these types of services. Your son was a role model and leader to many of these people gathered here today. My God, the mayor of Chicago is here. Look at the aldermen and ministers. I expect Moniqa and Melissa to act their parts accordingly. My baby is holding up well under the circumstances and Melissa must do the same. I really don’t care how she does it. If she needs you and Bernard to get through today, then that’s what she’ll have to do.”

  After delivering her speech on proper funeral etiquette, Vanessa turned and walked away. A smile was plastered on her face as she briskly strolled to the other side of the room, squeezing a few extended hands as she returned to her seat. Her black, Calvin Klein dress hugged every curve of her body. Vanessa crossed her legs daintily after she sat down. Black Prada pumps graced her feet and black lace mitts fit snuggly over her tiny hands like second skin.

  Bobo’s mouth gaped in amazement. “Damn, Aunt Van don’t play.” He shook his head from side to side.

  Nancy Adams tried to mask the loathing she felt for her daughter-in-law. She closed her eyes and mouthed, “Forgive her, Lord. She knows not what she does.”

  Nate’s mother’s pecan-brown, round face was framed by silver curls, which peeked beneath her ornate black-feathered hat. Her face displayed a faint suggestion of distaste upon hearing Vanessa’s words. Nancy’s mouth formed a thin slash of disapproval. She shook her head then glanced at Melissa whose widened eyes displayed grief. Then Nancy laid her arm around her granddaughter’s heaving shoulder.

  Nancy leaned over and whispered quietly into Melissa’s ear. “You mourn your father as you see fit. Nate wouldn’t mind, not at all. You know your mother, she’s more of a social person than I am and likes to observe what she considers social niceties.”

  Melissa dabbed her eyes with a sodden handkerchief and sat erect. “Mommy’s right,” she declared. “I’m probably making a fool of myself as usual. Nana, I don’t mean
to. I just miss my daddy.” She laid her head on Nancy’s shoulder.

  Moniqa sashayed over to the pew. Her hips switched from side to side. “Mommy would like us to line up in five minutes. My goodness, Melissa …” She paused upon seeing the deadly mutinous look on Bobo’s face as if daring her to say another word. Moniqa’s task was completed and she sauntered to her mother’s side.

  “We’ll be there in a minute,” Bobo shouted to Moniqa’s retreating body. He waved his middle finger at her back.

  The sisters were five-foot-three in height. They possessed the same beautiful, identical features but that’s where the resemblance ended.

  Melissa was a tad plumper than Moniqa, wearing a size 7 in clothing to Moniqa’s perfect size 5. The eldest twin was reticent and quiet by nature. Both possessed exotic-looking features, heart-shaped, cinnamon-colored faces, hazel eyes, and a widow’s peak hairline courtesy of their paternal grandfather

  Melissa had a dimple in her left cheek, visible only when she smiled. Moniqa didn’t share the matching one. Whereas Melissa’s demeanor was shy and reticent, Moniqa was prissy with a haughty air. Her nose always stuck in the air, like her shit didn’t stink. The sisters wore identical black, DNKY crushed velvet dresses, black hosiery, and Patten leather pumps.

  Melissa smiled sadly at Bobo and Grandma Nan. “I guess we need to line up. Bobo and Nana would you please try and sit next to me?”

  “You bet,” Bobo whispered holding her hand. They headed out of the chapel.

  Vanessa’s father Edward Ross escorted his eldest daughter down the center aisle of the chapel followed by Moniqa and Vanessa’s mother Patricia. Bobo and Melissa stood behind them, followed by Nancy and her brother Bailey, then David and Trina Ross, Vanessa’s brother and sister-in-law, Bobo’s parents. Other relatives lined up somberly behind them.

  The organist serenaded the guests with his rendition of Precious Lord softly much to Vanessa’s dismay. She frowned in distaste, having an aversion to old timey gospel music as she called it being played at Nate’s funeral.