Private A Home I Left Behind

The knock on the door was answered by a young man dressed, not in a butler's uniform, but in pressed dark grey trousers and a crisp white shirt with tiny Del Bosque crests on the lapels of the collar that was traditional to all Del Bosque house staff.

"Can I help you?" the young man asked politely, his gaze curious as he regarded the petite rabbit-like woman at the door.

It was true, Rafael was waiting for his daughter, Filomena. He had been waiting almost 30 years for her to return, or there to be some sign -however small or unlikely - that she was still alive.

The patriarch of the Del Bosque clan had hired detectives, sent out his own scouts, put out newspaper articles about his daughter's untimely and mysterious disappearance... but all had led to naught.

Yes, there had been thousands of letters and phone calls, even a few women who had claimed to be his daughter, Filomena, but they had all been false leads or quite simply fraudsters.

Not even Diego, his brother, and the best scryer alive, could find any real trace of her. All his sibling had ever managed to scry was a forest somewhere... and even that had been a dead end.

So when Daniel, one of the house servants, knocked lightly on his study door and told him there was somebody at the door saying she was his daughter, Filomena Del Bosque, Rafael wasn't sure what to think.

Yes, he had been contacted by someone claiming to be his long lost daughter, but so many years of disappointment, false leads, and dashed hopes had left Rafael extremely wary of anyone claiming such a thing.

"Thank you, Daniel. Please show the young woman into the library. I will be there shortly."

Rafael paused almost as soon as he entered the library and was greeted by a petite dark-haired bunny-like person. The way they looked at him and uttered the words, "father" immediately hit Rafael and hit him hard. So hard that he felt his mouth go dry in acute disbelief.

"Filomena?" he asked, his tone extremely wary and guarded as he peered at her suspiciously, afraid that it was some scammer trying to pull the wool over his eyes like they had many times before.

None of what the young bunny-woman said made any sense. People dying because of his Mena? The idea of such a thing was incomprehensible. His daughter would never hurt anyone... and yet, the tearful voice, the contriteness ... they all reminded Rafael of his daughter somehow.

"If you are my Filomena..." Rafael began cautiously. "What happened to the bottle of 30-year-old Glenfiddich your uncle gave me?"

It was a very specific question, one he had asked every "Mena" that came through the door, and one that each had failed to answer correctly.

"Dios bendita... *oh my god," Rafael whispered in disbelief, his legs feeling weak, as he stared at Filomena while tears starting to pool at the corners of his eyes. The answer was correct - more than correct actually. Rafael had completely forgotten it was eggnog that his daughters had spiked.

"What was your favorite thing to do as a child?" he asked the young woman cautiously, his voice strained, still not allowing himself to truly believe it was Mena, his daughter, standing before him.