Page 20 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

Curious how far this conversation would go, Rowan went over and sat down at the table, motioned for Scott to do the same. “What is the truth? Let’s talk about this like two civilized adults and stop playing games. I’m doing my best not to think the worst. But it’s difficult when the image of that headstone keeps popping up in my brain. I can’t just unsee that, can I?”

Instead of answering, Scott forced out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “All I know is what the rumors were. The story was that Gwynn Dewhurst had a baby girl at the age of seventeen up in San Francisco.”

“Who’s story?”

“Lynette’s. I’m not sure what the truth is exactly. Lynette claimed the father, this Atticus Eaton—the one listed on your birth certificate—was never in the picture. I’m pretty sure your mother was never married. I might be wrong, best to check for yourself, but I’m almost positive she wasn’t. Gwynn lived in this house with the child in relative peace. I don’t remember the little dying, though, let alone how she died. But her death could have been enough to set Gwynn on a path of self-destruction. She started hanging around with a bad crowd. The path she took from there you already know. I’m not sure yet how the headstone fits into the whole picture. That’s the puzzle. That’s the truth you need to find out.”

Reeling from that, Rowan slumped back in her chair. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Scott’s face twisted into a painful grimace. “I don’t think you’re Gwynn’s natural daughter. Or that you have blood ties to Jim and Lynette Dewhurst. There, I’ve said it. It’s on the table, so to speak, out in the open.”

“I did ask for the truth. But there seems to be a lot you don’t know. You’ve just admitted as much.”

“There are gaping holes everywhere. And that’s your journey of discovery.”

“How would I prove that Gwynn Dewhurst ever gave birth to a child in 1995? How would I determine who died back in November 1999 at the age of four without getting the authorities involved? The hospital would have records,” Rowan answered her own question, mulling over the direct approach. “But how would I be able to access that information? There’s the census. But in 1999, that would hardly be up-to-date information. They only conduct a census every ten years. The online obituaries might be more helpful. The cemetery should keep logs of its burials.”

Scott saw the wheels turning and egged her on. “Did Gran have any other living relatives that might provide you with a DNA sample that could be compared to the child at Eternal Gardens? Think outside the box.”

“Not that I’m aware of, but good thinking. I’ll dig around the house. Now that I know Gran kept this secret from me, I should be looking for anything that tells me where I came from, right?”

“Driftwood Cottage is the best place to start. Just remember, though, once you go down that path, there’s no telling what you may find.”

“I get it. The entire house of cards comes tumbling down on my head. I could be anybody’s daughter from her group of friends. Or do you think Gwynn snatched some random kid out of a stroller? Knowing her like I do, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“It’s a possibility. You could go to one of those genealogy websites and see what comes up.”

Rowan brightened. “That’s not a bad idea. How long would I have to wait for them to send me a kit?”

“You’re asking a guy who hasn’t used a computer in over a decade?”

“Probably a week,” Rowan noted. “I wonder if I could get a kit locally?”

“Brogan and Lucien would know. And Brent Cody certainly would.”

“But the police chief would ask questions,” Rowan determined. “I need one like yesterday.”

“So now you’re eager to get at the truth?”

Rowan glared at Scott. “Gwynn turned me into her dead daughter, and Granddad and Gran went along with it. Do you know what a bitter pill that is to swallow? Do you realize I could’ve stayed in San Diego and been oblivious to all this?”

“But do you want to be oblivious about who you are?”

She made a growling sound in her throat. “I guess not. I need to find this Atticus Eaton. Maybe he holds a key piece of the puzzle.”

“If your mother didn’t make him up.”

“I hadn’t considered that possibility. Make up a name for the father. How clichéd is that for an unwed mother? That sounds like something good ol’ Gwynn would do. Could this get any more confusing? Technically, if what you say is true, I’m not even the original daughter.” She narrowed her eyes into slits. “Could you be wrong about this? Because last night I was convinced I was a twin. Now, less than twelve hours later, I’m basically accusing the woman I assumed was my mother of kidnapping someone else’s child.”

“Think about it this way. If Gwynn isn’t blood, then you’ve no link genetically to her history of addictions. Don’t try to deny that you’ve been afraid for years you’d end up like her. Although you do enjoy the obligatory glass of wine occasionally, you make it a point to never drink to excess. If you have no blood ties with Gwynn Dewhurst, then you’re in the clear.”

“There is that one bright spot. How do you know all this stuff about me? Should I be concerned about privacy?”

But when she looked at Scott for an answer, he’d disappeared.

“Figures,” Rowan muttered. “I guess ghosts don’t like it much when they’re the ones in the hot seat.”

Daniel parked his Crosstrek in the alleyway behind the ice cream store and went in through the back door, flipping lights on as he went.

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