Page 45 of Clashing Moon

The next morning,we set out right at ten. Rafferty had been ecstatic when I told him the news, as had Jasper and Stella. I’d felt shy to ask Rafferty if he would go with me, but he seemed eager to join me.

It was close to two by the time we turned into the gated community in a wealthy area of Missoula. As we pulled up to the sprawling, tree-lined street, my stomach twisted into a painful knot. I felt breathless. My fingers tingled. “I think I may pass out.”

“You’ll be fine. Just breathe.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“True enough. This is it,” Rafferty said, pulling into a circular driveway in front of a spectacular brick house with a wide porch and ivy that climbed up the front. “Nice place,” he said.

“Yeah. Really nice.” It was the kind of house I might have imagined for a happy family—if I’d ever dared to imagine one for myself. I took a deep breath, steadying my hands as I climbed out of the car. Rafferty came to stand beside me and took my hand as we walked up to the front entrance.

The double doors opened before we reached them, and there she was. My mother. I froze, taking in her appearance: slim, youthful, with a grace and beauty that felt achingly familiar. She looked like me, only older. Same sleek brown hair and a heart-shaped face. The same soulful eyes. Seeing her felt surreal, like glimpsing an image of myself through some warped lens of time. She wore a warm, hopeful smile, though I could see her fighting back tears.

“Arabella,” she whispered, stepping forward, eyes wide, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Hello.” My vision blurred with tears. I pressed my hand to my mouth, willing myself to keep it together.

“Your eyes are the same as the last time I saw you,” she said. “I would have known you had I seen you somewhere.”

“I look just like you.”

“Much prettier. May I hug you?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” I said.

Her arms wrapped around me, trembling. “I can’t believe it’s you. I’ve dreamed of this day for so long.”

I hugged her back, a strange sensation washing over me. Déjà vu? Memory? I don’t know. But she was someone I knew, one way or the other. She was my mother. “We’ve lost so much time,” I said.

“I know.” She pulled away, cupping my face. “My goodness, you’re so lovely. I’ve so many things to ask you.”

“I do too,” I said, my voice catching.

I suddenly remembered poor Rafferty standing a few feet away, giving us space. “This is my friend Rafferty. He’s from Bluefern.”

Sally reached out her hand, and Rafferty took it. “Would I recognize the name of your family? I grew up in Bluefern. You know that, of course. I’m sorry. I’m so nervous.”

Rafferty smiled one of his best bedside manner smiles. “It’s understandable. My mother’s name is Stella Moon, but before she married my stepdad, she was Stella Sharp.”

“Oh yes, of course. I remember her. She had three little boys. You must be one of them?”

“I’m the third. There are two more after me,” Rafferty said. “Five altogether. Our biological father was killed, and my mother remarried when I was nine. Jasper Moon adopted us, so we took his name. Arabella and I are the same age. We went to high school together.”

“Mortal enemies,” I said.

“We competed for top rank in our class.” Rafferty flushed as he shot a glance my way. “We’re no longer enemies. And all that hard work paid off for both of us. Your daughter is Bluefern’s veterinarian.”

Sally’s face lit up with obvious delight. “I knew you were smart. And you were crazy for animals from the time you could walk.”

“Rafferty’s Bluefern’s doctor,” I said, a surge of pride warming my chest. “He came back to town to run a family practice about the same time I moved home.”

Sally’s eyes dimmed momentarily, but she quickly hid whatever it was that hurt her. “How wonderful. I want to hear every detail. Please, come in out of the cold. The boys are all dying to meet you.”

Inside, the rooms were as beautiful as the exterior suggested—decorated in warm, earthy tones, with large windows that let in streams of natural light. Family photos lined the walls. I hesitated for a moment, taking in the progression of my brothers’ ages through the years. Several were of my mother holding them as infants. A pang of envy made my chest ache, almost like the feeling of being homesick. They had been loved and cherished. That much was obvious.

What would I have been like had I grown up here with my mother?

She guided us into a formal living room. A nice-looking man with streaks of silver in his dark hair stood to greet us.

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