Chris was escorted by Shade to the parlor where he was then left alone to wait for Lydia, who'd requested a private meeting with him there. The parlor was at the other end of the hall of pictures so Chris was able to sneak another peek at Lydia's photo when he'd passed by. The parlor itself was a very casual room, with multiple arched windows allowing the natural light and warmth of the sunny day to reside within. In between two of the windows was a lone, cozy looking loveseat that was a private distance away from several padded armchairs positioned cordially near an oval shaped coffee table in their midst. The room even had it's own quaint little fireplace.

    Chris took a seat and nervously tapped his foot on the hardwood floor as he waited for Lydia's arrival. Odd thoughts began popping up in his mind as certain things from his conversations with Gale and Shade surfaced. Recalling Gale's account of the years between their births he determined that Gale was thirty, and Shade was twenty-eight, though age truly was just a number to their timeless beauty. 

    Such pondering  was ushered away by more vexing thoughts, like if he really was this Corbin they claimed him to be. He knew he wasn't Christopher Lynch. That was just a name required by adoption papers, but despite all the uncanny evidence pointing toward Corbin, he wasn't yet convinced that was his real name. It wasn't that he didn't want to believe it, he just wanted to be able to believe it wholeheartedly, without any nagging doubts that might stab at him continuously. Even with all the uncanny truths that came with that name he felt like it brought him closer to his origins than he'd ever been. 

    His restless mind forced him out of the chair, over to the windows where he intended to search the grassy, tree-filled grounds of the estate for a calming distraction. A faint reflection of himself in a window pane soon caught his eye. Suddenly he became selfconscious about his appearance, worried that it might have a negative effect on Lydia's impression of him. He combed at his messy hair with his hands, adjusted his twisted sweater, and hoped he was presentable enough.

    He marveled at himself for being so concerned at what a total stranger might think of him, especially one who until only a little earlier had been nothing more than a figment of his dreams. Those reoccurring dreams had made her important to him though, and he wanted desperately to be important to her. Her vision had come to him at a time when he had been subconsciously lured into a numb, stunted existence by the mundane demands of a life with soured hopes and dimmed dreams. The image of her reaching out to him for a rescue night after night had actually rescued him, made him believe again that there was someone out there who would let him love them, and maybe love him in return. She had restored his desire for purpose through love, and he would be forever grateful.

    Gale and Shade seemed ready and willing to embrace him as family, but would Lydia? If he was to accept that in that manor were the origins he'd longed for his entire life, the family he was destined to be a part of, then she was going to have to accept him. Her voted mattered immensely to Chris, who was standing at the threshold of all that he'd ever wanted. Already, the fear of losing what he hoped for was battling with his courage to reach for it, taunting him with the idea that Fate was just playing another cruel joke on him. Even though with each passing minute he felt himself acknowledging the sway of Gale's testimony, he feared something would arise to proof it all a farce. The battle of doubts and fears raged in Chris until he heard the sound of excited footsteps rushing his way from the distant end of the hall of pictures. His heart raced away at the sound and for one second he thought maybe it's pounding beats against his chest would actually be visible through his sweater.

    He turned in time to see Lydia rounding the corner to the hall of pictures, running at him with bouncing hair through the hall to the doorway of the parlor. She stopped and looked at him with a gleaming delight in her brown eyes as she recovered her breath from the sprint she'd just endured to reach the parlor. Time stood still for both of them. He swallowed hard, fidgeting with the seams on his jeans as he stared at her, his late night spectre. She was the exact image from his dream with her gray pants and burgundy cardigan, her shiny black hair that draped her shoulders and shrouded her young, lovely face.

    Even though he was speechless, Chris dropped his mouth to utter something, anything; but before he could make a sound Lydia rushed into him. She slipped her arms through his to squeeze him in a sincere embrace while she turned her head and buried it in his chest. There was more acceptance in her hug than he could have wished for, but he was rigid in her heartfelt embrace at first. Never having been hugged like that before in his life, and afraid to encompass her with all the emotions that swirled inside him at her presence lest she be crushed in his arms caused him to hesitate in hugging her back. Images of her distraught state from the dream flooded his mind, and he succumbed to the overwhelming desire to finally wrap his arms protectively around her. He lowered his chin to the top of her head with closed eyes that wanted the moment to last forever. No one was going to harm her now, no one was going to take her away, ever.

    Their smothering union lasted much longer than most hugs, but seemed all too quick for both of them when they finally pried away from each other with the sparkle of joyful tears shaping their eyes. Chris' heart was lifted by the beaming smile which Lydia unabashedly broadcasted at him. She took his masculine hands with her small creamy ones and led him over to the loveseat where they sat down, careful not to break their enchanted gaze.

    Neither one wanted to interrupt the doting air with spoken words, but there was so much to be said. Chris looked down to gather himself with a steady breath, then returned to Lydia's stare with the looming thought that was becoming more welcome to him by the second.

    "So, I hear we're related."

    "Of course we are, you're my brother," Lydia confirmed with the sweet, happy sound of her voice.

    Chris returned a weak smile at her conviction, one that exposed his lingering doubts.

    "You must believe it," she urged, pleading with her whole body's enthusiastic poise.

    "I want to, I really do," Chris confessed to her. "When you started coming to me in my dreams, I wanted so badly for you to be real."

    Lydia frowned affectionately at Chris's confession, then the corners of her mouth hinted at a smile when she raised a hand and caressed his cheek with it's backside. "I am real."

    He couldn't help but to chuckle at her claim of being real as he melted at her touch, considering to himself the meaning of her careful gesture which he'd just recently discovered. "Yes, I know that now, but how did you know that I was?"

    Lydia leaned close with a devious grin and raised her brow in secrecy as she whispered,"I've always known."

    Chris turned his head away with a somber bow. "But are you sure I'm the one?"

    Lydia watched his inner conflict droop his posture. She tenderly placed a hand under his chin and steered his uncertain expression to her. "What are you afraid of?" she asked softly.

    Chris searched the sincerity of her expression, then decided to lay his heart on the line. "I'm afraid of losing what I've found in this manor."

    Lydia acknowledged his fears with an empathizing frown, then she fixed her eyes on his with an absolute resolve. "You are Corbin Allender. You were lost to this family once before, but I won't ever let that happen again. I promise."

    Lydia's vow filled Chris with a warmth that spread throughout his whole being, filling  the cold voids of the orphan within. His posture strengthened while his heart rejoiced with a jubilant song, the song of belonging. Lydia's unwavering belief in itself was enough to let him relinquish his doubts which were already fading, but she offered him further proof.

    "Would you like to know how you got that scar on your forehead?"

    Chris pulled back a little, surprised that she knew about the scar. He cocked his head with curiosity. Lydia grinned sheepishly as she reached into one of her cardigan's pockets and pulled out an old, small photo which she handed to Chris for inspection. He pulled the photo close to his face and stared deeply at the toddler who looked back at him with a thoughtful expression under the freshly stitched cut in the exact location of Chris' scar.

    "Gale said it happened when you were just learning to walk. You stumbled and hit your head against the corner of an end table in the living room," Lydia explained, solving one of Chris' life-long mysteries as he got lost in the image of himself from a time that until now, he had no evidence of.

    Lydia noticed the convicting power of the photo's spell on Chris, so she hopped up from the loveseat, tugging at his free hand to pull him with her. He placed the photo down on the loveseat, and was towed by her into the hall of pictures where she directed him to a large picture that hung above the row of hers and her sisters'. There a well dressed, stately man with blond hair and Gale's eyes stared lovingly at an ethereal beauty with dark eyes like Shade's, flowing black locks and a rather pale complexion.

    "Pappa and Mother," Lydia solemnly declared.

    Chris wandered further into the picture, seeing for the first time the parents he was denied, and struggling desperately for some remnant of them in his memories. Lydia left his side to stroll a few pictures away, then she summoned Chris with the alluring call of her tender voice to view what she was viewing. He drug himself away from the photo of Hayden and Emma, to another of them cradling together an infant clothed in boy-blue while being flanked by a very young Gale and Shade.

    "That was the day they brought you home," Lydia informed.

    Again Chris dove into the scene before him, committing every detail to the vault of his mind's eye as something precious. Lydia studied him carefully, making sure by the sober mood that kept him fastened to the pictures that he understood what he was seeing. After a long contemplative moment, Chris turned to look at Lydia, but another picture caught his eye first. 

    It was of Gale and Shade as teenagers. They were standing with the same postures that defined them even now, with Gale like a courtly young lady and Shade a cocky rebel, but in between them was a black haired little girl wearing a sun dress that made her look like the most adorable doll. There was no proud Pappa or Mother like in the last picture, no brother either; just three sisters on their own. The pictures delivered the final blow against Chris' restraining doubts. They granted him a window into the heritage he had missed, but was now ready to take hold of.

    He turned to Lydia, heavy with the weight of his life settling on him, and knelt down before her with a tragic expression that dimmed the short gap between them. She waited for him to speak, since his body language implied he had something to tell her, but he looked away for a moment as he tried to choke back approaching sobs. He wanted to be strong in front of her for what he was about to say. When he felt sure that the gates against his bulging emotions would hold, and his voice wouldn't be threatened, he raised his head to look bravely in her eyes. 

    "Thank you," he uttered carefully, but earnestly.

    "For what?" she almost whispered, fluttering her eyes all over his humbled form in search of the answer.

    "For saving me."

    "Saving you?"

    "Yes, for saving me from a life without my family."

    It took a second for Lydia to grasp the meaning of Chris' words, but when she did her face glowed with the happiness of meeting her brother for the first time. Chris' face grew happy too under the shine of Lydia's joy, as she realized that her family was whole again; that her  brother who had been thought dead for nineteen years had come home. She jumped into him with another hug that he wasted no time in returning. Tears fell freely down both their cheeks.

    "I've been waiting for you my whole life," she whispered sincerely into his ear.

    "I've been hoping for you all of mine," he whispered back.