***
Zita was at the dining room table sorting through the documentation for Teresa when her cell phone dinged, indicating she had a message. She grabbed her phone and checked the social media message. The sender’s name jumped out at her.
Sean Flanagan.
She gasped and touched the screen to open the message. No, she couldn’t read it here in case someone walked in. Hurrying to her bedroom, she then shut the door and sat on her bed. She shut her eyes to control the nervous excitement. It might just be a polite message to say they weren’t related and she’d made a mistake.
There was only one way to find out.
She opened her eyes and read the message. Her mouth dropped open. Her head spun and she clutched the bedspread. Breathing quickly, she read the message a second time to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood.
The words were clear.
I think I’m your half-brother.
She shook her head, denying it, but his resemblance to her father was why she’d contacted him in the first place.
What should she do?
Reading through it again, she registered the details— his mother hadn’t known she was pregnant when Brendan had left Ireland, and no one knew where he’d gone.
Zita’s heart went out to him. She’d been upset about not remembering her father, but to not even know where he was, if he was alive or dead, would have been awful. And she’d mentioned he’d died in her message to him.
She needed to talk to him, to find out more before she mentioned him to her mother or sisters. How would Carmen feel about her husband having an illegitimate child in Ireland?
Zita typed out a reply.We should talk. What’s your number?
She hit send.
She got to her feet as a response arrived with his contact details. Should she call him now? It all felt a little rushed, but she put herself in his shoes. If he knew nothing about his father, he’d be eager to learn more.
Checking the time, Zita realized she had another hour before Carmen would be home. She video-called him.
As his face appeared on the screen, her heart hurt. It was like the home movie come to life. “Hi,” she said. “This is kind of surreal.”
He blinked a few times. “It is. When I got your message I couldn’t believe it was true. It took me a while to work up the courage to contact you.”
“I’m glad you did. So how old are you, Sean?”
“I’m thirty.”
Zita did the calculations. It was quite possible he was only a few months older than Carly. Their parents had met a few days after Brendan had arrived in El Salvador. They’d married a week later, and Carly was conceived not long after. Zita sighed. “This is so weird. What do you know about your father?”
Sean reached for something and held it up in front of the camera. “This is a photo of my father, taken right before he left Ireland.”
It was definitely him. Her father.
“I didn’t know much about him growing up. I had his name, and there had been rumors he’d been a terrorist.”
Zita gasped. “What?” No. Not her father.
“It wasn’t true,” he assured her. “He was accused of helping the IRA in the eighties. There was some kind of conspiracy charge and he fled the country. It wasn’t until a year later they found the real culprit, but by then no one knew where he’d gone.”
She let out a deep breath. He was innocent. Had Carmen known why he’d left Ireland? “So Papa didn’t know about you?”
Sean shook his head. “He was accused before my mother was even aware she was pregnant.”
That made it easier to understand. She would have hated to find out her father had abandoned his son. “Did she ever search for him?” If she’d loved him she would have been heartbroken.
