Chapter 3 - Not Audrey
Duke watched as the woman – Audrey! – took a stool at a prominent corner of the bar. Slid one leg over top of the other, turned her shoulders open to the room. She ordered only water. She may as well have hung a sign: Open for Business.
It was Audrey. She was Audrey, Duke was certain of it. The way his heart banged against his chest only confirmed it.
Audrey. Back again after two goddamn years missing.
Not Audrey – and ohmygod there it was. Audrey – as Audrey – was gone, replaced by this creature with Audrey's face and Audrey's eyes and….
Duke sat, his legs near to giving out underneath him again. Reaction warred in him – she was back, she was gone. Two fucking years and he'd just been getting used to the idea that they wouldn't see her again for another twenty-five, and here she was. Alive and whole and so staringly beautiful – and she wasn't Audrey.
Duke watched as recognition flitted across several faces, as locals in the bar recalled Audrey Parker, and tried to fit this woman with the black hair and skin tight jeans, ripped with ragged holes that Duke would guess were real and not designer artifice, with their image of the proper professional –nice– former FBI agent.
He watched as a real drink arrived for her. He watched as young Ben Hanover tried his luck, but he soon had to share her attention with Barb and Jack Sutton – who, Duke recalled, had to be careful he didn't call trains off their tracks to run them down when they argued. Ben went back to his buddies.
Both the not-Audrey woman and the Suttons soon separated, unsettled and disturbed looks between them. Barb petted Jack on one arm as they passed by Duke, calming him. She looked up at Duke, confusion and hurt in her eyes.
Duke stopped her before she could say anything. "I see her." They probably didn't know anything about Audrey's unique history, may not have even known about Audrey's abduction and disappearance. They just knew that they'd reached out to a former friend to find –
It wasn't her. She looked like her, the face was the same, but she wasn't her; didn't remember them, and didn't speak the language.
"How?" Barb asked.
"This is Haven," Jack said, the only explanation needed and patted his wife's hand. "Does Nathan…?"
He cut himself off at Duke's expression and flicked "No."
They backed away, exchanged looks that Duke had labeled könnte schlimmer sein – looks he'd seen people in Haven wear more and more as the years ticked by and the Troubles still went on. Not schadenfreude, but maybe a more compassionate version of it. Could be worse. We have problems, but life could be worse. Nothing to do but hold on until the ride was over.
But no one reached out to help their neighbor, join forces, or work together.
Not since Audrey.
What in God's name was he going to tell Nathan?