Altha felt something in her chest tighten. “What do you mean?” she asked. Sienna stepped aside. “Come see.” Altha walked in slowly. The warmth from the fireplace hit her first. Then the sound of quiet conversation. And then she saw her. Sitting at the table. Calm. Safe. As if she had been there the whole time.
Her mother. For a moment, everything else disappeared. All the searching. All the fear. All the unanswered questions. Altha took a step forward, her voice trembling. “Ma?” Beatatrice looked up. Her expression was gentle. But unfamiliar. She studied Altha for a second. Then gave a small, polite smile.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Do I know you?” Something inside Altha broke. “What do you mean?” she said, her voice rising. “Of course you know me… it’s me.” She stepped closer, panic setting in. “Where were you? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why didn’t you call me? What happened?” But Beatatrice just looked at her… confused. Like none of it made sense.