“We went home and talked about it. We prayed. We decided this might be our only chance to raise a child, so we agreed, and within three months, we had our baby . . . we had our little Jimmy. The young mother took her other four children and moved out of the area. We never met her, but we were told she was a good mother and that it almost killed her to give up one of her babies. I sent her little notes and pictures of Jim through the years as well, through our pastor, whom she’d asked to deliver cards and letters to Jimmy for her. To my knowledge, she never attempted to find our true identity or visit her son.”
“But . . .” Renee said, trying to wrap her head around this. “Why didn’t Jim ever mention any of this to me?”
Marilyn took a deep breath. “Because . . . I kept the correspondence she sent, but I never shared any of it with Jimmy. We never told him any of this, in fact. I don’t know if she ever suspected we didn’t tell him he was adopted. We decided we just . . . we couldn’t tell Jim he wasn’t our biological child. When we adopted him, we lived in Ohio. We moved to Minnesota when he was still a baby, so no one around here knew we adopted. We didn’t have much family around, so it was an easy secret to keep.”
“But why?” Renee asked.
“We thought it would be less confusing for Jimmy, growing up, if we kept the secret.”
Renee just stared back, still in shock.
“The first time I questioned our decision,” Marilyn continued, “was when they finally figured out what was wrong with Jim and the doctor mentioned aplastic anemia can sometimes run in families. Should we have told him he was adopted at that point? If he had known his biological family and someone else in the family had it . . . what if he could have been diagnosed sooner? But he got so sick so fast, we were afraid to tell him for fear the shock might hurt his weakened body. So we kept our secret—but the doubt drove us mad.
Renee swallowed. “So . . . so why now? Why are you telling us this now? Now, when Jim has been gone for years?”
“As I said, we decided long ago to keep our secret. But something has happened that made me rethink that decision. Recently, I received a letter. Our old pastor died twenty-five years ago, so we hadn’t had any correspondence with Jimmy’s biological mother in a long time. Suddenly, a letter shows up. I could hardly believe it. I took it to James and told him what it said. But the man is failing, and I don’t know whether he understood. He wouldn’t say anything to me about it. He shook his head ‘no’ time and time again and got upset. An aide came in and asked me to leave for the day. The next day, he didn’t remember any of it.
“So this is my cross to bear. You reaching out to me after all this time seemed to be a sign. Maybe it was a sign from God. Maybe it was Jim giving guidance from heaven. But when you called me, I knew this was something I had to share with you.”
Pushing up slowly from the table, Marilyn went over to an old desk in the corner of the living room. Flipping down the oak lid, she pulled out an envelope and brought it back to the table, handing it to Renee.
“Please read it out loud, Renee,” instructed Marilyn, taking her seat again. “My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.”
Renee unfolded the letter. It was handwritten in bold cursive. She cleared her throat and began to read.
“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Clements. My name is Grant Johnson. Please forgive me for reaching out to you with what may seem like a strange request if my research is wrong. I believe you were the adoptive parents of my twin brother. My mother passed away recently, but before she died, she confessed to me I had a twin whom she gave up for adoption when we were born. I had no idea I had another brother. My mother was a strong, caring person and I can hardly believe she gave up one of her children. Believe me when I say her circumstances had to have been extremely difficult. When we cleaned out her home, I saved boxes of correspondence, intending to go through them when I had time. Lately, most of my time has been spent taking care of my daughter Grace, who is critically ill.
“A few weeks after my mother’s death, I gave more thought to what she had told me. You see, it is possible to effectively treat the disease ailing my daughter if a bone marrow match can be made. If a match can be found with a family member, the transplant is much more likely to be effective. Unfortunately, no matches have been found within our family to date. Acting on a whim, I decided maybe something in my mother’s files might give me a clue as to my missing brother’s identity. Imagine my surprise when I did find some limited information. I worked with someone with good investigative skills and we eventually uncovered enough information to determine, with reasonable certainty, that you were the adoptive parents of my brother.”
Renee spared a glance at her kids to gauge their reactions as she shuffled to the second page of the letter. Robbie fidgeted in his seat, peering into the blackness beyond the kitchen window. Julie met her mother’s gaze with the briefest of nods to encourage her to continue reading.
“If this is indeed true, I am also saddened by the knowledge your son died an early death. It is possible he died from the same disease my daughter Grace is suffering from now. Please know how sorry I was to learn of Jim’s death, and I convey to you my deepest sympathies. If not for my daughter’s illness, I likely would never have acted on the information I discovered in my mother’s files. I would have respected your privacy. But if there is any chance of finding a match for my daughter, I hope you can understand my desperate need to explore all possible paths.
“I know Jim fathered two children prior to his death. I am writing to plead for your assistance in reaching out to them.
“My daughter is very ill, so it is critical we act quickly. I can be reached at 555-290-2828. If my research was flawed and you were not the adoptive parents of my brother, please call me immediately so I can continue to pursue other paths to find potential matches for Grace.
“God bless, Grant Johnson.”
“So you see,” Marilyn said once everyone had absorbed Renee’s reading of the letter, “it was no longer my secret to keep. Now it is your turn. It is up to you whether or not you want to reach out to Mr. Johnson. I have not, nor do I plan to. I have done what I can with the information.”
“Wow,” said Robbie. “That is some heavy stuff. We might have an uncle and cousin, and maybe more family we never even knew about before today.”
Overwhelmed, Renee sat quietly, again reading the letter from a possible brother of her dead husband. A thousand questions raced through her mind. He was a twin. Would they have been identical? Would they have similar mannerisms even though they weren’t raised by the same parents? Would Grace look like Julie or Robbie?
She refolded the letter, placed it in the envelope, and rose. She put it in her purse and turned to Marilyn again, ready to leave before any more surprises could be shared. She didn’t know if she could process any more.
“One last thing, Renee,” Marilyn said as she rose again from the table. She went back over to the secretary and slid open the bottom drawer. From it she removed a covered box the size of the photo boxes available in craft stores, but this box was much older.
“Here is all of the correspondence we received from Jim’s biological mother in those years before Pastor Mike died. I think you three should have it. And I promise, no more surprises tonight. I am tired—and I know you need to get back to your folks.”
At the door, Renee gave Marilyn a quick hug and a small smile. What could she say? She hadn’t yet begun to think through the ramifications of everything Marilyn shared with them. Promising to call her when they got back from their trip to Fiji, they left the overly warm house.
No one said much on the way back to Renee’s parents. They agreed to take some time to think about everything, and they would decide how they wanted to handle it all after their New Year’s trip. Since it was late and they planned to leave early the next morning, they also agreed to hold their newfound secret close for a while longer. It was a secret Marilyn had kept for almost fifty years; a few more weeks couldn’t hurt,
right?
Chapter 17
Gift of Conversation
Renee settled into her seat on the plane. An ice cold, crystal clear morning had greeted them when they left the house at 4:00 a.m. Despite the hour, both kids chattered with excitement during the drive. Now the three of them were scattered throughout the coach section. Booking flights so close to departure hadn’t allowed them to get seats together. Renee suspected both Robbie and Julie would sleep once the plane leveled off.
Once in the air, the reality of this excursion hit. With nothing else to occupy her thoughts in the darkened cabin, Renee started second-guessing her decision. Their adventure was going to be expensive—obviously not the most prudent choice. Renee’s mind skipped ahead to next Thanksgiving . . . what if her severance package ran out before she found a job? Would Julie have to withdraw from college? How would Renee keep their medical insurance? Would Robbie be able to stay on his basketball team if she couldn’t afford the costs of participating at the high school level? Her anxiety rose with the elevation, and she started fidgeting in her seat.
The seatbelt light above flicked off. To calm her nerves, Renee walked back to the lavatory. Once in the confined space—not the best solution for her anxiety, she realized—she splashed cold water on her face. She looked up, staring at herself in the mirror.
“Get a grip,” she muttered at her reflection. She was not going to ruin any of their fun with a sudden case of regret, she told herself.
After a few deep breaths, she folded the door open and walked back to her seat. A cart bearing heavenly smelling coffee approached her row. She felt better as she drank the dark brew. Reaching under the seat in front of her, she hoisted up her carry-on bag, careful not to spill her coffee. She pulled out one of the books Julie gave her and the journal from Robbie.
It didn’t take Renee long to become engrossed in one of her new books: Rich Dad Poor Dad. Julie’s thoughtfulness was opening up a whole new world. She quickly devoured the first few chapters, capturing comments and favorite passages in her new journal.
Renee closed the book and laid her head back, shutting her eyes. The book was giving her lots to consider. Instead of sitting down and writing out a bunch of goals, as she started to do after she was laid off, she needed to think long and hard about how she wanted to live her life from now on. She needed to understand the “why” behind the key areas she would choose to focus on, before she tried to figure out the “how.” She sat quietly, giving herself time to start assembling her jumbled thoughts. As she relaxed, she drifted off.
When she woke, strong sunshine streamed in and flight attendants were serving boxed lunches. Stowing her book and journal back under the seat, she noticed the woman sitting next to her put away her laptop. The woman offered Renee a friendly smile as they both opened their lunches. They’d exchanged hellos before the flight took off but hadn’t talked beyond that in deference to the quiet of the dark cabin.
“Hi, I’m Renee.”
“Hi Renee, I’m Susan,” the woman replied with another warm smile.
Renee unwrapped her sandwich. “Are you going to Fiji for fun or for work?”
“I’m meeting friends in Fiji. We plan to usher in New Year’s with fun, sun, and friendly natives. I was working in Minneapolis for the past month, but I live in Virginia. I noticed you were reading a book by Robert Kiyosaki. What do you think of it so far? He has written a few good books and I really love the one his wife Kim wrote. Have you read Rich Woman?”
“Oh, I haven’t, I’ll have to check that out next. I love this one! It’s got me thinking, that’s for sure. My daughter Julie gave it to me. My son Robbie gave me the journal for Christmas. We’re heading to Fiji to celebrate New Year’s, too. They’re in seats up ahead. This trip was spur-of-the-moment, so we didn’t get seats together.”
“Wow, what a great thing to do with your kids,” Susan exclaimed. “I booked this trip last February. Helped me tolerate Minnesota in December, knowing I had a tropical vacation to look forward to. What prompted you to take a last-minute trip all the way to Fiji?”
Renee pondered how best to respond. She was surprised at how comfortable she felt, talking with this stranger, and decided to be open about her current predicament. Why not?
“We originally planned a quiet holiday at home, like we always do. My daughter was coming home from college, and my son is still in high school. I always find it tough to unplug from work for long. We even stopped making the short trip to my parents’ for Christmas the past few years. But in mid-December, I was laid off from my job, effective immediately—such a surprise.”
Susan gasped sympathetically.
“It shouldn’t have been a surprise, given the state of the economy and other recent layoffs, but I never thought it could happen to me, you know? Suddenly, we had free time on our hands. I had to decide whether I wanted to sit home and wallow in self pity or suck it up and celebrate the holidays. In hindsight, I feel like this trip was totally irrational . . . but as you can guess, we decided to celebrate and here we are, on a flight to Fiji! We also spent time with extended family over Christmas. It was great to reconnect with everyone. Made me realize what a mistake it’s been to stop going home for the holidays.”
Susan didn’t act surprised by Renee’s story. Renee was relieved when she didn’t immediately reply with standard comments like “It’ll be fine,” or “You’ll find another job right away.” Instead, she listened and she nodded periodically, helping Renee feel comfortable enough to share her situation. Susan looked ten years younger than Renee, but she had an air of maturity about her.
“Renee, it sounds to me like you made the right decision to bring your family on this trip. It’s scary to find yourself unemployed, but that’s your situation as it stands today, and you’re making the best of it. It can be maddening to have your life thrown upside down, but it happens all the time—just usually to other people, right?”
Renee laughed, nodding.
“Sometimes,” Susan said, “these dilemmas, while painful, can be just what you need to force some much needed change in your life. Life can get pretty boring and stale if you don’t shake it up once in a while.”
Renee smiled. “You know, Susan, you sound a lot like the author of this book. Have you ever been laid off?”
Susan laughed. “I sound like the book’s author because I’ve read that book, and many others like it. My work revolves around helping women who find themselves in much the same situation as you. It isn’t always a job loss. It can be a sudden divorce, illness, even death—anything that’s turned someone’s life upside down.”
“I can’t believe this,” Renee said. “What are the odds we end up sitting next to each other on a plane to Fiji?”
“It probably isn’t a coincidence,” Susan replied. “Keep reading those books, and I think you’ll see what I mean.”
“Please, tell me more about what you do,” Renee prompted. “How do you help women?”
“I’d love to tell you about what we do. But first it would probably help if I told you a little more about myself. You were so generous in sharing your story—I owe you the same candidness.”
Susan wrapped the remainder of her sandwich in her napkin and dropped it in her boxed lunch. She folded the box shut and took a quick sip of water before continuing.
“I graduated from college nine years ago and found a nursing job, working in an emergency room. I won’t lie to you, it was tough. The hours were long, the work draining, and I struggled with the despair I witnessed every day. We were taught to keep a professional distance when working with patients, and I understand why they see the need to take that approach. If you allow yourself to think too deeply on the dire situations many of those people are facing, you go crazy. You want to help, but often there is little you can do.”
“I can only imagine,” Renee said.
Susan nodded. “You see families ripped apart when a spouse dies from an accident or a sudden heart attack. You see people, usually wom
en, come in repeatedly because someone that supposedly loves them keeps beating them. You see kids coming in so messed up on drugs their brains will never heal. Sometimes you can serve their immediate needs, but often, you know some of them will make choices that will put them back in the same position again, or worse.
“I worked lots of hours, didn’t socialize much, and was still single at thirty. My sister Maggie—she’s two years younger. She met her husband in college. When they completed their undergrad, they decided to get married and he went on to law school. Maggie was pregnant a few months into the marriage so decided to stay home instead of starting her career.”
Renee was so engrossed in Susan’s story, she forgot to finish her sandwich. A flight attendant came by to collect trash, prompting Renee to continue eating as she listened. Susan handed her box to the attendant.
“They lived a few hours from me, so I didn’t get to see them often. When I did, they seemed happy, excited to start a family. Tim, Maggie’s husband, passed the bar and landed a job with a big firm. Life clicked right along, and Maggie kept busy raising their twins.”
At Susan’s mention of twins, Renee flashed back to her mother-in-law’s kitchen, reading about her late husband’s long-lost twin. A twin with a dying daughter. Jim would have loved having a brother.
But then there was the accident,” Susan said, pulling Renee’s attention back to her story. “Tim picked the twins up from a play date and was bringing them home. A drunk driver slammed into their car. Killed Tim instantly.”
“Oh my God,” Renee exclaimed, shifting in her seat to more fully face Susan. “That is terrible! What about the kids?”
Susan closed her eyes and shook her head. “I thank God every day that Maggie’s son and daughter survived with barely a scratch. But Maggie struggled. Tim never actually bought the life insurance policy he told her he took care of. They bought a beautiful home when the twins were three. There wasn’t much equity yet when Tim died.
Whispering Pines (Celia's Gifts Book 1) Page 9