“He doesn’t get to slink away privately now. Everyone who believed him needs to see the truth.”
Nathan nodded slowly.
“Then let’s give them a show they’ll never forget.”
Three days before the engagement party, Rachel’s DNA results arrived. Subject A, Rachel Morrison, shows 99.97% genetic match with subject B, Gerald Townsend. Subject A, Rachel Morrison, shows 99.98% genetic match with subject C, Diane Townsend.
I read the numbers three times, tears streaming down my face. Then I called Rachel.
“Can you meet me tomorrow in person?”
We chose a Starbucks halfway between Hartford and Springfield, neutral ground for two women whose entire lives had just been rewritten by science. She was already there when I arrived, sitting at a corner table with two untouched lattes. When she saw me, she stood up so fast her chair nearly tipped over. For a long moment, we just stared at each other. She had brown hair, brown eyes, a strong jawline that I’d seen on Marcus a thousand times, a subtle dimple on her left cheek, the same one Gerald had. And I had blonde hair, blue eyes, a button nose, and fair skin that matched the photos Margaret had shown me of Linda Morrison.
“We were strangers who should have been sisters. Sisters who were raised by the wrong families.”
“This is so weird,”
Rachel whispered.
Then she laughed, and I laughed. And suddenly we were hugging in the middle of a Starbucks, crying into each other’s shoulders while the baristas pretended not to notice.
“I want to meet them,”
Rachel said when we finally pulled apart.
“Diane and Gerald, my my biological parents.
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