After brief introductions, Will and Owen listened attentively to Ryker’s story. Occasionally, Will would turn to Owen and utter, “It can’t be.” Then in other parts of Ryker’s story, Owen would say, “It could be.”
“I figured,” said Ryker, “I’d come down here, spend a few weeks, ask around, see what I can turn up. I know it’s a long shot, but”—he looked at me, put his hand on top of mine, and squeezed— “I’ve been lucky before.”
Will took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The expression on his face was part wonder, part disbelief. He reached into the inside pocket of his vest and pulled out a plastic bag. He handed it to Ryker.
Ryker took it and examined the contents: a cotton swab and a vile. “What’s this for?”
“Would you mind?” said Will. “I’ve got a friend on the force. We could get the DNA tested, find out if you’re.…”
“If I’m what?”
Will turned to Owen, who simply gave him a solemn nod. Will turned back to Ryker. He cleared the place setting in front of him, put his elbows onto the table, locked his fingers together, and told us the most incredible story.“We were living in the mountains at that time,” said Will. “Not far from here, right on the border between North Carolina and Tennessee. This would have been about twenty-two years ago already.” He glanced over at Owen, and Owen confirmed with a nod.
“Those were different times back then,” continued Will. “Good times for us kids, not so good for our parents, though. You see, they married young, and their folks weren’t none too pleased about it, either. So, they left their hometown, Blossom, Tennessee, and headed for the mountains, so they could be together, raise a family like they wanted to.
“There were seven of us kids at that time—Owen and I are twins. We’re the oldest. And we got another set of twins two years younger than us.”
“Another set of twins!” I blurted out then and belatedly put a hand over my mouth.
Will nodded. “Brock and Gannon’s their names.”
“Sorry for the outburst,” I said. “I just—” I closed my mouth and put my hand out, inviting him to continue.
“Not a problem,” said Will. “Anyway, we didn’t have much, but we had each other.” He looked at Owen, who confirmed with a nod.
Will took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and continued. “One day, our mom had to go into town with the youngest. Dennis was his name. He couldn’t keep his food down and needed to see a doctor for something bad. He was three years old at the time.”
“Three years,” Ryker mumbled—the age he’d been adopted.
I stole a glance at Ryker, and he had his attention locked on Will.
“I knew one of us should have gone with her,” Will continued, and he hung his head and shook it regrettably.
Owen put his hand on his shoulder and encouraged him to continue.
“Pops wasn’t feeling too good, and our second youngest brother, Shaun, was under the spell, too.”
“The spell?” I asked.
“He means a fever,” Owen explained. “It’s what we call it ‘round here.”
“Mom said we had to stay back and look after them, us being the oldest,” Will said. He pounded his fist against the table and shook his head.
I could tell he was fighting back tears, and my heart sank in my chest.
Will wiped his chin, put his elbows back on the table, and continued. “When she didn’t come back by nightfall, we went out looking for her.”
I gasped.
“It was a cold night.” Will glanced out the window as if it looked out onto the scene he was describing. “Too cold. She wouldn’t have survived the night if we hadn’t found her.”
He paused, looked down at the table, and ran his hand over it like he was clearing it of crumbs.
The anticipation was too great for me. I prodded, “But you found her?”
He nodded. “She was unconscious, lying off the trail. Later said she lost her footing, tumbled, and hit her head.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Problem was,” Will continued, “Dennis wasn’t with her.
“When she fell, Dennis must have wandered off, trying to find help.” He rubbed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Again, Owen put a hand on his shoulder and encouraged him to go on.
“Dennis never could sit still. Not a minute.” He chuckled nervously and glanced over at Owen, who smiled knowingly.
“We were all night looking for him, all night then all day the next day then all night again.” He put his hands flat onto the table and let out a breath like he’d just run a marathon. “There it is,” he said, “Our little brother Dennis, twenty-three years ago”—he snapped his finger— “vanished.”
Ryker, still holding the plastic bag with the vial and cotton swab, looked at it and uttered, “And I could be Dennis.”