I moved back to the picture, and after counting the number of names and faces, my cell phone nearly dropped from my hand. As much as I recognized my mother’s face in this Ciara, there was no mistaking who this face belonged to.
I’d heard the expression of having had the rug pulled out from underneath you, but I had never truly lived it until now. As I stared down into a face I had only seen in my dreams, my heart began to race as my pulse quickened.
“Anamchara,” I murmured softly as my thumb stroked over her face.
She had survived and carried what had to be our child to term, so why did she not reach out to me afterward? The blade from earlier twisted in the opposite direction now. My heart was shattering back into pieces as it had been that morning on that godforsaken mountain road when I thought I had lost everything. In actuality, I might not have lost anything.
Did my grandfather know?
No, he was cruel, and because of that, he never would’ve let her live. He had been so proud to show me her eyes, and he had even psychotically kept them for as long as he could preserve them as a means to punish me. My daideó would’ve certainly returned to finish the job had he’d known his men had missed.
How in the hell did this happen?
I continued to stare at her face, and upon doing so, I finally closed my eyes. It was then that I remembered the two of us in the woods near that tree with our initials carved into it, and on the pier, under it, and inside the school. And everything hadn’t even been just about sex, especially those first few weeks when we’d just been getting to know one another. The hand holding, stolen kisses, and soft caresses came rushing back with so much force that I physically felt it in my chest.
My eyes felt as if they wanted to water, but I’d learned a long time ago how to stop that, so I did. It didn’t lessen the pain I was experiencing in déjà vu as I remembered nearly every moment the two of us had spent together. She’d promised to be mine forever, but she had betrayed me. I now couldn’t honestly decide whose betrayal was worse. The man who claimed to love me, but constantly used me as a pawn, or the woman who claimed to love me, then faked her death and ran off with our child.
This doesn’t make any sense. Reagan would never do this to me.
I shook my head, then erased the search field and decided to put both Rowan and Reagan’s names together to see if there was a tie. Was it possibly a middle name, or a nickname? Nothing was making sense to me, until...
Elin and Reagan Coughlin found murdered at Summit Crest Preparatory School, and survived by daughter and sister, Rowan Coughlin.
My cell phone did fall from my hands in that moment. The room began to spin, and those panic attacks I’d had since that summer came roaring back with a vengeance. I clutched the edge of the table and closed my eyes while desperately trying to calm myself down. My knuckles were white at this point, and I had more sweat coating me than rain had if I had just stayed outside in it.
And as I thought about the rain, I could hear it outside the windows. I could also hear the loud rumbles of thunder and nearly feel the intensity of the lightning as the skies raged. And wept. Much like I was doing in this moment, as it all started to make sense. It was all coming back to me now, and I knew how she had gotten away with it.
My grandfather had killed your sister, so you took her name. Then, you ran and let me believe you were dead, to mourn you along with everyone else.
“Sir, are you okay?” I heard.
I reopened my eyes and looked up at the one who’d brought me my food earlier. “I am, but could I get a box and bag for the rest of this food?”
“Certainly. I’ll bring those to you.”
She disappeared, and I looked back down at the article. This Rowan Lynch was Reagan Coughlin, and I intended to prove it. Once I did, I had no idea what I would do to her, but I would take back my child. A daughter. I almost couldn’t believe it.
The woman returned with both, so I used the wax paper to wrap up what was left of my sandwich and fries before stuffing them into the box and then the bag. I spent another ten or fifteen minutes inside the shop as I finished my beer and waited for the storm outside to be over. Once done with the bottle, the skies and the rain had lightened up enough for me to leave. I needed to get home and do some more research. I would then devise a plan.
I’d been talking to one guy from the dating app now for almost a month now. He lived in New Jersey, but also worked in Brooklyn like I did. We had met once for coffee during a lunch break at the clinic, and I’d accepted his invitation for dinner that weekend. At the time, it was the natural response, but as I stared at my reflection in the door length mirror, I was torn.
“Are you sure this doesn’t make me look too slutty?” I asked my bestie.
Monica had agreed to watch Ciara overnight at her place, which was just down the hallway from me. I suspected that she had ulterior motives, and as she appraised the knee-length dress I now had on, I could see the gears in her head as they worked.
“Not slutty enough if you ask me,” she finally responded.
“C’mon. I don’t want to give off the wrong impression,” I said to her. “We’ve done nothing more than talk online and meet for a cup of coffee.”
“And what does he do again for a living?” she asked me after she got up and walked into my closet.
I followed behind her. “He’s in IT.”
“Computer geeks can be so hot,” she replied with a muffled voice as she was face-first in my limited closet.
This loft had a huge closet, but most of it was filled with children’s clothes. I had a small corner, and I doubted Monica would find anything she would approve of in there until she jumped back. “Aha. This is it. Put this on!”
“He isn’t a geek,” I said, clarifying her first remark, then as I flipped the black dress in my hands. “And, I think I wore this at a party a year or two ago. I don’t think it screams first date vibes.”
