Just before it pulled away, one of the little girls turned back toward me and gently placed her hand against the window.
Then the vehicle disappeared into traffic.
I remained standing there for several minutes.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened.
If their mother really was Camila Montgomery…
Why did she have the exact same tattoo we had chosen together all those years ago?
And why had those three little girls recognized it the instant they saw mine?
Maybe it was nothing more than an incredible coincidence.
Or perhaps that brief encounter in Central Park had just reopened a chapter of my life I believed had been closed forever.
Thank you for reading this part of the story.
