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We froze, waiting to see what would transpire.
My pulse raced as I watched a man and girl exit the car that had parked in the driveway right in front of us. As I caught sight of her face, I realized not only did she look like Ariadne, she looked like me.
Immediately, I knew.
I turned to Caleb. “She’s my sister.”***It was nearing 8PM now, and Caleb and I were still parked outside the house, unsure what to do.
“Look at me,” he finally said. “We need to make a decision. You don’t have to go in. But if you do, I’ll be right here by your side. This is your choice. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“I’m pretty sure if I turn around and leave now, it will haunt me. I have to confirm it.”
“Then you have your answer. We should go in.”
Blowing out a shaky breath, I opened the passenger-side door. Caleb followed, and we headed up the small set of stairs to the front door. With a trembling hand, I rang the doorbell.
The man opened. “Can I help you?” He had brown hair with gray on the sides.
“Hi…uh…I’m looking for Ariadne Mellencamp.”
His expression changed, and his eyes slowly narrowed. “Who are you?”
“My name is Teagan Carroll. I’m visiting from the United States. Ariadne is my birth mother, although I’ve never met her. I understand she might live at this address?”
I knew she wasn’t here. If she were, I probably wouldn’t have come to the door. This visit wasn’t about Ariadne. It was about the little girl.
It took him a few seconds to respond. “How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
Caleb grabbed my hand and squeezed it.
The man stepped out of the way to let us through. “Come in.”
The smell of something toasting registered. Normally, that would have made me hungry, but I was too nervous.
The girl appeared behind him. “Who are you?”
Her green eyes were the same as mine. Her thick, light brown hair—also the same as mine—had been gathered in a side ponytail.
“My name is Teagan. Nice to meet you.”
“That’s a nice name.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Emma.”
I swallowed. “Hi, Emma.”
Her father turned to her. “Emma, can you go to your room for a moment?”
She protested. “Why?”
“I need to discuss something with our guests.”
“But—”
“Emma, just do what I asked. Please.”
After she reluctantly disappeared into her room, Stuart led us over to the couch in the living room. Caleb sat next to me and held my hand while the man took a seat across from us.
“You’ve been looking for Ariadne?” he asked.
“Not really,” I told him. “I accidentally stumbled on this address as one of her previous residences. When I saw there was a child living here, it made me curious, and I came to see her. I don’t have any interest in meeting Ariadne.”
He nodded. “Ariadne hasn’t lived here in a very long time. We haven’t seen her in years.”
This story sounded familiar. A feeling of dread grew in my chest. When he seemed hesitant to continue, I decided to tell him my story.
“My father was Ariadne’s college professor two decades ago. He fell in love with her. She convinced him to travel the world with her, paying for everything. She got pregnant with me and wanted to terminate, but my father convinced her to stick around long enough to have the baby. She left soon after I was born, and I’ve never met her. Nor do I care to.”
Stuart stared at me a moment. “You look just like her.”
“I know. I look just like Emma, too. Is she—”
“Yes. Ariadne is her mother.”
My heart swelled in my chest. Emma was my sister. My sister. I had another sister, and I’d had no idea all this time.
I braced myself. “What happened?”
He shook his head and laughed a little. “Well, like your father, I was sucked in by her charm, her mystery, her beauty. Ariadne was traveling alone when I met her on a park bench. That night, I took her home with me, and we lived together for two years. We opened up a café that sold organic tea, coffee, and snacks down the road. We were blissfully happy until she got pregnant. She admitted at that point that she wasn’t ready to settle down. And like your father, apparently, I did everything in my power to convince her to keep the baby, to stay and raise it with me.”
Feeling a mix of disgust and sadness, I said, “I know where this story is going.”
“You do know. Because you’ve lived it, my dear.”
“She left after Emma was born?”
“Soon after, yes. Woke up one morning to find a note from her. She apologized for having to leave, saying Emma would be better off without her in our lives.”
“Was that the last time you saw her?”
He nodded. “I didn’t bother chasing her down. She knew where to find us if she changed her mind, but she never came back.”
