Stranger With My Face Read Online Free

reasonably.
    “I don’t know.” I paused, and then threw out the final piece of information. “It’s not just Gordon. Natalie was there too.
     They both say they saw me.”
    “So there are three possibilities.”
    “Like what?”
    “Number one—you were there and won’t admit it. Number two—you weren’t there, and Gordon and Nat are in cahoots.”
    “And number three?”
    “They saw somebody who looks exactly like you.”
    Hearing it presented that way, there wasn’t much I could do except nod. Those were, indeed, the only three alternatives.
    “But why would they make up a story like that?” I asked in confusion.
    “That’s a good question. You tell me.”
    “There isn’t any reason.”
    “So where does that leave you?”
    “With—number three. That there was someone who looks like me on the beach last night. But Gordon says there was bright moonlight.
     It’s hard to believe he and Nat would both be fooled, especially when they weren’t expecting me to be there.”
    “You do look kind of unusual,” Jeff said.
    “Well, thanks a lot!”
    He didn’t apologize—not that I had expected him to. He turned and looked at me appraisingly. It was always a shock to have
     Jeff look at you straight on like that, because the two sides of face were so different. I’d been sitting on his good side,
     so when he turned toward me I had to adjust for a second.
    He studied me for a moment, then shook his head.
    “No, there aren’t many people around here who look like you,” he said.
    He reopened the book, which had fallen shut on his lap, and it was apparent that he meant for our conversation to be over.
    The whole way to the island I brooded over his comment. Rude as it was, it was true. On my best days I liked to think of myself
     as exotic-looking. Gordon kidded sometimes that I could be part Native American with my dark coloring, high cheekbones and
     almond eyes. “Bedroom eyes,” he called them, meaning they were sexy. My father referred to them as “alien” because they were
     the same shape as the eyes he gave to the maidens from other worlds in his novels. When I looked at my parents—both of them
     so fair—and at Neal and Meg with their light blue eyes and freckled noses, I wondered sometimes how I had managed to be born
     into such a family.
    So did it mean there was another girl who looked “unusual” also? That she was living on Brighton Island and I’d never run
     into her? That seemed impossible. In the summer, of course, there was an influx of tourists, but few stayed on into September,
     especially those with children. Rennie worked the ferry with his father during the summer months, and he made it his business
     to inspect the girls. If there had been one who could have been my identical twin, he would have mentioned it, if only to
     tease me.
    Which brought me back to Jeff ’s proposition number two—that Gordon and Natalie had invented the girl-on-the-beach story.
     But why would they do such a thing? What purpose would it serve? If Gordon wanted to break up with me, there were easier ways
     to go about it, and Natalie wouldn’t have to be involved at all.
    “It has to be that they lied,” I said to Jeff as we descended the ladder to the main deck. “But it doesn’t make any sense.”
    “Don’t lose any sleep over it,” he muttered. “Ahearn’s not worth it.”
    Any other time I would have resented the statement. Now I wanted to believe it was true.
    We disembarked at the landing and walked side by side along the pier to the road.
    “See you tomorrow,” I said, and Jeff mumbled something indiscernible, apparently sorry he had devoted so much of his valuable
     time to me.
    He headed off southward toward the village and I went in the opposite direction toward the point. The first short segment
     of the road was cut off from the water by dunes and sea oats, and the air was still and hot as though the remnants of summer
     were trapped there waiting for release. When