Echoes From The Past

Chapter 6 - Familiar Stranger

When Elda stepped in, the coffee shop was nearly empty, and the bell above the door announced her arrival. She needed space to think, away from the charged atmosphere of their home. Away from Vik's troubled eyes and the mirror that showed impossible reflections.

"White chocolate mocha, please," she told the barista, then settled on a corner table with her laptop. She had decided to research missing persons cases from the past decade, though she wasn't sure what she was looking for. A man named Vyn? A woman who matched the description from Vik's dreams? She had no idea why she decided they might be missing. What if they were aliens from another planet or from another dimension? She almost chuckled at her thoughts. This is not some Sci-Fi TV series. This is their life, her life. But what if?

"Sarina?" A woman's voice, trembling with disbelief, broke through her troubled thoughts. "Good Lord, you look just like Sarina."

Elda looked up to find an elderly woman standing before her table, her pale blue eyes wide with shock. The woman's silver hair was neatly coiled in a bun, her clothes were elegant though dated.

"I'm sorry," Elda said gently. "You must have mistaken me for someone else. My name is Elda." Please, please go away," she pleaded inwardly.

The woman's hand trembled as she gripped the back of the empty chair. "May I?" At Elda's nod, she lowered herself into the seat. "Oh my God she is not leaving. Why is she sitting down?" I apologize for startling you. It's just... for a moment, I thought I was looking at a ghost."

"Who is Sarina?" Elda asked her despite her reluctance. Something in the woman's haunted expression compelled her to know more.

"She was my best friend, years ago." The woman's eyes grew distant. "She lived in that old house on Harper's Hill with her husband and baby. Then one night, they just... vanished. All three of them." She focused back on Elda. "You could be her twin, dear. Even that tiny mole above your eyebrow - Sarina had one just like it," she said, bobbing her head several times to affirm her revelations.

Elda's hand flew to her face, touching the small mark she'd had since birth. "When... when did this happen?"

"1985. The investigation went on for months. I worked at the local library then, and kept every newspaper clipping." The woman hesitated. She was my friend, she said again, blinking back tears. "I still volunteer there, you see, in the archives section."

"The husband," Elda's mouth was dry. "What was his name?"

"Vyn," the woman said softly. "Vyn Thoreau."

Elda couldn't breathe. The coffee shop seemed to spin around her. Vyn. The name from Vik's dreams. The name the old man had mentioned.

"Would those newspaper articles still be in the archives?"

The woman nodded. "Along with some old photographs from the town newsletter. Sarina used to help with community events." She glanced at her watch. "The library closes in an hour, but I could show you..." she said softly while wondering why the woman turned pale suddenly and why she was interested in knowing more about her friend. Some people would have brushed her off by now. Could she be Sarina? Martha shook her head as if to shake the thought away. That wouldn't make sense, she looked quite younger than Sarina should be, but exactly like her thirty-eight years ago.

"Yes," Elda said quickly, already gathering her things. "Please."

The drive to the library was brief, but every second felt like an eternity. The woman - who introduced herself as Martha Chen - led Elda through the quiet building to a room filled with filing cabinets and bound volumes.

"Here," Martha said, pulling out a thick folder. "The Thoreau disappearance."

Elda's hands shook as she opened it. Newspaper clippings spilled out: "Local Family Vanishes Without A Trace," "No Leads in Harper's Hill Mystery," "Search Continues for Missing Family." And there, in a grainy newsletter photo, was a woman who could have been her mirror image, standing beside a man who looked exactly like Vik.

"The baby," Elda whispered. "Do you remember the baby's name?"

Martha's brow furrowed. "Elena, I think. Yes, Elena Thoreau."

Elena. Elda. The room tilted dangerously.

"The house," Elda managed to say. "Is it still there?"

"Up on Harper's Hill? Yes. Nobody's lived in it since they disappeared." Martha studied her face carefully. "Are you alright, dear? You've gone quite pale."

"I need to go," Elda stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "Thank you, Mrs. Chen. Thank you for showing me this."

She hurried out, barely hearing Martha's concerned farewell. In her car, Elda sat with her hands gripping the steering wheel but didn't start the engine. Her phone buzzed - a message from Vik asking where she was. Her fingers hovered over the keys, then dropped. No, she couldn't tell him. Not yet. Not until she understood what this meant.

She typed quickly: "Needed some air. Getting groceries. Home soon."

Harper's Hill loomed in the distance as she drove, visible from the highway. Tomorrow, she decided. Tomorrow she will visit that house alone. Vik was keeping secrets about his dreams; she could keep this one too.

But as she turned toward home, Elda couldn't shake the feeling that these secrets they were both harboring might be the very thing that could tear them apart - or the key to understanding who they were.