It was pretty steep, and the ground kept shifting beneath my feet. Snatching at the bushes and using my butt as a counterweight, I scrabbled down the hill, wishing again for tennis shoes, or boots. Despite the dirt and clay between my toes, I managed to reach the crumpled car in just a few moments.

There was an oily smell, grease and gasoline. Broken branches covered the roof and hood, so I snatched away whatever greenery I could, revealing shattered glass and twisted metal. A few seconds later I could see the woman in the driver's seat. She was lying almost flat, the seat in a reclining position. Good thing, too, because the roof of the car was crushed. She had less than a foot of breathing space. There was blackened blood in her hair, and her eyes were closed.

It wasn't Lila, and I was glad. I didn't want to see Lila's dead body. The passenger side of the car was completely crushed against a tree, and there was no way I could get to it.

Lila's final task was. done-finding help for her daughter-and her spirit was nowhere to be seen. I could only hope she'd crossed over.

"Miss?" I kept pulling branches off the car so I could get closer to the woman in the front seat. "Help is on the way," I said, knowing she couldn't hear. She was young-late twenties, maybe, brown hair, white T-shirt. Her face was turned toward me, cheeks pale except for a big bruise along the jawline, mouth slightly open.

"Where the hell is that ambulance?" I muttered. The window was shattered, jagged pieces of glass still stuck in the frame. Very carefully, I reached a hand in until I could touch her wrist, feeling gingerly for a pulse.

Like I knew what I was doing.

She moaned slightly, fingers twitching. Relieved, I said again, "Help is on the way. Just stay still." Her eyes didn't open, but her fingers twitched again, harder.

Without thinking, I took her hand in mine and squeezed. The faintest pressure answered me, and that was that. I stayed in that position, bent over awkwardly, holding her hand and hoping I wouldn't cut my arm on broken glass, until the ambulance arrived.

I never thought the wail of a siren could sound so good.

And then there was Joe, white lab coat flapping as he scrambled down the hill with a first aid kit, two guys in blue shirts carrying bright orange boxes not far behind.

"They're here," I said to the woman. "Hang on." This time there was no answering pressure when I squeezed her hand.

As Joe reached us, I let her go to move out of the way, oddly reluctant to break contact.

"Oh my God," Joe breathed.

"Is she dead?" Please don't let her be dead.

"No." Joe's face was as white as a sheet. "It's Kelly. It's my wife."

CHAPTER 2.

The nurse behind the emergency room admissions desk stared at me, stone-faced. Gray-haired and plump, she seemed glued to the chair, and completely unconcerned by my demands for information.

"Her name is Kelly Bascombe." I was insistent, unwilling to settle for "have a seat." I'd followed the ambulance in my car, but there was no way I could keep up. Now that I was here, I wanted to see her, dammit. "She's a car accident victim. They just brought her in."

The nurse's stern expression never changed. "You'll have to take a seat, ma'am. All I can tell you is she's being taken care of. The doctor will be out to speak with you as soon he's able." The woman's cheerful scrubs didn't go with her drill sergeant personality; cartoon flowers and butterflies all mixed in with the words "Get Well Soon." Her ID badge said BETTY WALKER, RN, CNAA.

"Can't you at least tell Dr. Bascombe I'm here? My name is Nicki Styx. Joe-Dr. Bascombe-is a friend of mine."

She eyed me coolly, unimpressed. "I'm sure you understand that Dr. Bascombe is very busy at the moment. Please have a seat, and he'll be with you when he can."

Battle-Axe Betty was about to get an earful, but Evan stepped in. I'd called him on the way, and he and Butch got to the hospital at nearly the same time I did. Evan took me by the elbow and pulled me toward a row of chairs. "C'mon, Nick. We're gonna have to wait a little while. Joe knows we're out here."

A "little while" turned out to be three and a half hours. By that time, Nurse Betty was shooting me dirty looks every time I got up from my chair. There was a TV droning over in one corner, but I spent the wait pacing, nagging the nurse, and whining. Butch went for snacks, sodas, and magazines, so he and Evan managed to occupy themselves with fashion and fitness for a while. I wasn't hungry, and for once I didn't care about Lagerfeld's spring line or photos of buff, sweaty men.

"You'd think somebody could figure out how to make waiting room chairs more comfortable." My butt and hard plastic weren't a good fit. "I'm sick of this place. Seems like I've been here at least once a week for the last month."

"Three times." Supremely bored, the Queen Supreme flipped lazily through the current issue of Muscle & Fitness. "Once for you, once for me, and now for Kelly," Evan said.

Kelly. My twin sister. Supposedly. Maybe.

I'd know when I looked her in the eye.

Wouldn't I?

The chair next to me creaked as Butch sat down. His big, bald bouncer image was the perfect cover for a heart of gold and a teddy bear personality. He slid an arm around my shoulders, offering me a cold can of soda. His bulk was solid and reassuring, and he wore great cologne. Armani, maybe.

"Does she look like you, Nicki?" Butch asked.

"I don't know. Her face was bruised, her eyes were closed-she had blood in her hair. Long brown hair. She was unconscious."

I remembered watching Joe take her pulse, and how he said "She's alive" as if it were some kind of miracle. I'd watched him open the first aid kit and start pulling out tubes and needles. I'd backed up, away from the car, mostly to stay out of his way, partly so I wouldn't have to see the look on his face.

Would he have been that absorbed, that focused, if the woman were a stranger? Had I been watching a doctor trying to save a patient, or a husband trying to save his wife?

"I could only see the side of her face anyway." I took a teeny sip of soda. She'd been wearing a white shirt and jeans. "When the paramedics got there they had to wait for the police to bring a pair of metal clippers to cut through the roof of the car. They peeled it back and got her out, but she never woke up. She never moved."

"Wow," Butch said. He gave me a squeeze. "You have had a day, haven't you?"

I didn't need to be here. What could I do? Stand around and watch while my boyfriend held his dying wife's hand?

"Hey now." Evan put down his magazine and slipped over to take a seat on my other side, while I covered my eyes and tried not to burst into tears.

I'd cried enough lately. Three funerals in a month, and my own near death experience. Twin sister shows up, she's near death, too. But if I were going to have a sister, I'd prefer a live one to a dead one. I had enough ghoulfriends as it was.

"Miss Styx." Nurse Betty finally called my name. She hung up the phone as I hustled over, ready to behave and be quiet if she'd just tell me something.

"Dr. Bascombe would like to speak with you privately." She came out from behind the desk where she'd been planted. "If you'll step in here," she opened the door to a side room just a few steps away, "he'll be with you in a moment." Was that the teeniest bit of softening I heard in her voice? The room was small, nothing but a few chairs, cushioned ones this time, and a couple of side tables. There was a big box of tissues on one and a Bible on the other. Oh, shit.

I looked at Evan, a wave of panic closing my throat.

That was the signal he'd been waiting for. Both he and Butch shot up and came toward me. The nurse subtly positioned herself between us and asked, "Are you both family members?"

Oh, shit. Privacy? Family members?

"This is my brother." I spoke up before anyone else could, and reached out to catch Evan's hand. There was no way I was gonna be able to pull off both of them as relatives. Butch would understand.

Evan's fingers squeezed mine, and I squeezed back.

"Well, then." The nurse didn't question us further, ushering the two of us into the little room. "Dr. Bascombe will be right with you," she said, and closed the door.

Claustrophobia immediately set in, making the panic worse.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God... Kelly's dead," I blurted. "She's dead, I know she's dead."

Evan gave a horrified gasp. "You do?" He grabbed my hands in both of his, glancing suspiciously around the otherwise empty room. "Did the nurse tell you this or did she?"

Even in my panicky state I knew what he was worried about. One ghost today had been enough for poor Evan.

The door opened and Joe stepped in, looking haggard. He checked when he saw us both standing there, then came in and shut the door behind him.

"Let's all sit." He wasn't smiling. Panic gave way to a kind of numbness as Evan and I sank into the cushioned seats, not letting go of each other's hand. Joe sat on my other side.

"How's Kelly?" My voice sounded surprisingly normal.

Joe reached for my free hand, and I gave him it to him without thinking. "She has a concussion, two sprained ankles, some broken ribs. She's dehydrated and very weak."

I blinked. Nowhere in there did I hear the word "dead."

Joe was still talking. "Ironically enough, the dehydration is probably what saved her. It kept the brain swelling under control and a blood clot from forming. The head injury could've been much more serious otherwise. But another day or so and dehydration would've killed her. Her kidneys would've shut down. All in all, she's in surprisingly good shape."

The numbness persisted, so I tried to focus on Joe's warm grip on my hand. "She's going to be okay?"

He nodded, but he still wasn't smiling. "She's going to be okay."

"Hallelujah." Evan blew out a noisy breath. "You had us scared to death! Why couldn't you just tell us that in the waiting room?"

Really. I closed my eyes and let my shoulders slump, surprised at the amount of tension they carried.

"Because there's something else."

Joe's answer brought my eyes open again. I looked at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"She's been in and out of it, but we were able to talk a * little." He hesitated. "She knows about you, Nicki."

"What? You told her already?" I stared into Joe's eyes, not knowing quite how to feel about that. Seems like he and Kelly had already done quite a bit of catching up. I couldn't help but wonder if they'd done some making up, too.

Joe was shaking his head. "I was too busy trying to save her life," he said. "I'll tell her about us as soon as she's stable."

His gaze never wavered, but the detached calm that made him such a good doctor made me nervous. Despite his promise, a little stab of jealousy hit. Was this a doctor being considerate of his patient, or a man putting off the inevitable with his wife?

"If you didn't tell her about me, then who did?"

He sighed. "The woman who was in the car with her." He paused, then added, "The woman who died. They were on their way to find you."

Now I was really confused.

"Lila? The woman in my store?"

"Nicki..." Joe glanced briefly at Evan, who was being uncharacteristically quiet. "I don't know any easy way to tell you this."

My fingers were numb from the death grip Evan had on my hand.

"Lila Boudreaux, the woman who died, was your mother."

--- Emily Styx was my mother.

Brown hair, plump cheeks, and sweet hugs. Adoring smiles and fresh-baked cookies for husband Dan and daughter Nicki. Advice and acceptance for me and my friends. Encouragement and pride. Love and warmth and laughter.

Those were my memories of my mother, and nobody could take them away.

I felt bad about Lila Boudreaux, but she was a stranger. A stranger who'd given me away without bothering to get to know me first. Even if she'd managed to survive the accident, she'd shown up far too late.

Although she could've at least said good-bye.

The corridor smelled strongly of whatever pine-scented soap the hospital used to mop the floors. I stood outside the door to Kelly's room at 9:00 A.M. the next morning, wondering what to say to her. My feelings for Joe, my thoughts of Lila, sympathy for what Kelly must've been through... everything was tangled up into a big knotted ball of curiosity and nervousness, curdling my stomach. I was about to meet my twin and my boyfriend's soon-to-be-ex-wife, all in one. This was huge.

I didn't have time to worry about the past. I had to deal with the present.

Before I could lose my nerve, I tapped at the door and went in.

Kelly was staring out the window, propped up against the pillows with her legs elevated. Her head was bandaged and so were both ankles. A smear of bluish-black bruises covered the side of her face, ugly twins to the ones on her arms.

She'd been crying. A box of tissues sat beside her on the bed, and she dabbed at her eyes, sniffling, as I came in. As soon as she got a good look at me, she froze, and so did I.

I had goose bumps. This was my sister.

"I'm Nicki." The words felt weird on my tongue, but I made myself say them. "I think I'm your sister."

Kelly sucked in her breath, eyes widening. I watched them fill with tears, while mine prickled uncomfortably. She pressed a bruised hand against her mouth while we stared at each other.

Then she held out her hands. They were shaking. Tears escaped her lashes and rolled down her cheeks.

"You look like her," she whispered. "She was so pretty." Her voice caught on a sob. "She's gone, you know."

I didn't need to ask who she was talking about, even though I didn't think Lila looked at all like me.

I moved toward the bed and took Kelly's outstretched hands, careful to let her do the squeezing. Then I sank down beside her on the edge of the mattress. Her hands were cold, while mine were sweating.

We were only a couple of feet away now, staring into each other's face. Her expression was impossible to describe-a mixture of wonder and sorrow that made me want to cry. But I was determined not to. I'd been through enough mascara lately.

I couldn't deny it-even with the bruises and bandages, looking into Kelly's face was like looking into a mirror. An ugly, bruised mirror, but whatever.

"How can this be?" she murmured.

My normal personality asserted itself. "Well, the way I understand it, the fertilized egg splits in two."

She smiled, her first one. "So you're a smartass, too. What a relief. At least we'll have something in common."

I smiled back, finding it surprisingly easy. Kelly laughed a little through her tears, ending on a watery hiccup. Then she let go of one hand to swipe at her cheeks.