Some years were spottier than others as far as these types of items were concerned, depending on what had been happening with her housing situation at the time. Even when she was old enough to save things herself, they often got lost in the shuffle. She had nothing that could shed any light on where she was born, or to whom, so there hadn’t been anything to bring.
“Before we go through this stuff, why don’t we each share our earliest memories?” Serenity said. “Where we thought we were when various events took place, who we were with, whether those people stayed in our lives... I’ve found in researching the cases I write about, sometimes it’s the most innocuous detail that leads to something bigger and more revealing.”
Reagan rubbed her face. “Okay. Do you want to go first?”
“Yeah, let’s start with you,” Lorelei chimed in, looking at Serenity. As fragile as she felt, she didn’t want to go first. Talking about her childhood could be difficult even when she was in a better state of mind.
Serenity spread out the items she had with her. “I admit I don’t have much to complain about. I had a wonderful childhood. So good, in fact, that I couldn’t help thinking there must be some mistake with...with what we’ve learned. I didn’t tell you both this, but I was so convinced this had to be the result of a false positive or whatever, I had my DNA retested.”
Reagan crossed one long leg over the other. Although she was casually dressed in sweats, she appeared to be taking a professional approach to this. Lorelei couldn’t see her acting any differently if they were all sitting around a conference table wearing skirts and heels. “And?”
“The results were right to begin with.” Serenity glanced at Lorelei before quickly continuing, “But so you know, I didn’t double-check because I don’t want you both as my sisters. It’s just that everything I’ve ever believed about the rest of my family has broken down, and depending on how this happened, I’m afraid of what it’ll do to them. I don’t want to push people—loved ones—who are otherwise happy, off an emotional cliff.” She paused. “Reconstructing our history, our relationships, won’t be easy.”
Reagan stared into her wineglass as she swirled the liquid inside it. “You’re assuming they’ll react negatively.”
“Isn’t that why you haven’t told your mother?”
“Yes, but your family seems much better adjusted than mine. My mother is all I’ve got. If she reacts negatively, there’s no one left.”
Then maybe you’ll know how I feel, Lorelei almost said but managed to bite it back.
Serenity toyed with a picture of the siblings she’d been raised with. “I tried to subtly suggest to my brother and sisters that they get their DNA tested—told them I’d done mine to see how it all worked for my writing—but none of them seemed particularly interested. They’re content with their lives. I was, too—before Sean, of course. I didn’t want to raise suspicion or risk having them mention anything about DNA to our parents, so I didn’t push, but I may try again later.”
Despite all the tension Lorelei was feeling, she was distracted by Serenity’s mention of her ex-husband. What, exactly, had Sean done? Serenity had been so tight-lipped about him. “Your parents don’t know that you had your DNA tested?”
“No, but I would’ve mentioned the results if they hadn’t been so...unexpected. It’s interesting that I have 3 percent Neanderthal DNA, for example. My dad would get a kick out of that. He’s always been interested in evolution, watches all kinds of documentaries about early hominid species before Homo sapiens. But when I received the notice that I had a close living relative I knew nothing about, it spun me in a completely different direction. Then Lorelei reached out on Facebook and the rest is history.”
“Do you think you’re related to your siblings?” Reagan asked. “Do you think we are?”
“I don’t think you are,” Serenity said. “You don’t look anything like them.”
Lorelei’s mind went to the pictures she’d studied so closely on the living room wall. She doubted Serenity would want to hear it, but she didn’t see a lot of resemblance between her and her siblings, or even between her and her parents. “Judging from the ones on the wall—”
“Wait.” Serenity pulled some more pictures of herself, her brother and her twin sisters at various ages from a box at her feet and put them on top of those already on the table. “Here are some more.”
Lorelei picked up a photograph of the twins at about ten years old. They had lighter hair and darker eyes. And they were more petite, didn’t have the same tall, lanky build that Serenity had in common with her and Reagan. “The younger three resemble each other more than any of them resembles you.”
Reagan considered a photograph of Beau before setting it aside to examine a picture of Serenity’s parents. “Yeah, I guess I’d have to agree with Lorelei. Your coloring is different.”
“But I still look like them, don’t I?” A defensive note had crept into Serenity’s voice.
Reagan continued to sift through pictures. “A little,” she allowed. “How old were you when your mother had the twins?”
“She was seven.”
It was Lorelei who answered, but Reagan kept her focus on Serenity. “For twins to follow such a long gap suggests your parents might’ve been undergoing some sort of fertility treatment. Do you remember them talking about anything like that?”
“No. But I’m not sure I would’ve picked up on it. Do seven-year-olds understand what fertility means? I just remember how excited I was when my mother told me I was going to be a big sister. I’d asked Santa Claus for a baby sister for two years in a row, so I thought he was finally answering my request.” She chuckled as she shook her head, obviously lost in the memory. “You can imagine how grateful I was when I learned I was getting two sisters and not just one. I thought he was making up for being late.”
Resentment hit Lorelei like a sledgehammer. She’d begged Santa for a mother—something she never got. She’d never been given many presents, either, but she wasn’t upset about that. She was grateful for the few she had received. No one was technically obligated to provide her with a Christmas.
“How many more years was it before Beau came along?” Reagan asked.
Lorelei could’ve answered that question, too, but she didn’t. She was still grappling with the way Serenity’s story was making her feel.
“Four.”
“So you would’ve been eleven,” Reagan mused. “Old enough to understand a bit more.”
“I guess, but, again, I only remember being excited. Especially when the ultrasound revealed it was a boy.” Serenity pulled back her hair, twisted it into a knot at her nape and then let it fall free again. “I had my two sisters—I was eager for a little brother.”