“Thank you for sharing that with me, Camilla. So, since you mentioned her name, I gather you know the name of your biological mother is Marjorie Jennifer Sarsky. Do you know any more than that?
“When Dad passed away last year I found his storage box in which he kept his important papers. I finally had the courage to look in it this past summer. I’ve been wondering for a while now, if the reason I look so different from the rest of the members of my family, isn’t because I’m not actually one of them. I have a different build, different hair colour, and a different complexion from my parents and other relatives. So, to tell you the truth I was almost relieved to finally find evidence in my Dad’s metal box that I was in fact adopted. There was some correspondence surrounding my adoption, as well as my birth certificate. But really, beyond my mother’s name I don’t know much else.”
“Well, I can tell you that her last name now is not Sarsky, she was married and so her last name changed to Hamilton. I can also tell you that our records show that your mother inquired about you several times before you were eighteen and once again after she got married to Mr. Hamilton who, by the way, is not your father. However, it was only last year that Marjorie Jennifer Hamilton officially initiated the search for you.
“She requested that we contact your parents, first, to ascertain if you had been informed of your adoption before trying to make contact with you directly. I received a call back from your father letting us know your mother had passed away and that it was always their intention to let you know of your adoption, but they decided to wait until any inquiries were forthcoming. Why disrupt the family, they reasoned, if it wasn’t going to go anywhere? But then they realized that decision should really be up to you.
“Your mother passed away before she could let you know and your father told us he simply put it on hold until we wrote to him of your birth mother’s intention to seek you out. In any case Camilla, your dad welcomed Ms. Hamilton’s call and requested to speak to her. I know they did speak, but in the interim, before he was able to speak to you about your adoption, unfortunately he passed away and the two were unable to follow through as they had planned.”
“And, that’s when I got the call from Mrs. Hamilton asking for Dad.”
“Yes, from what I later learned from Jenny that is the case.”
“You know, although I only spoke a few minutes with Mrs. Hamilton I still felt such a strong connection to her…”
“Yes, I’ve run into similar encounters like that in other cases over the years.”
“I noticed you called her Jenny, Mrs. Blake. Why not Marjorie?”
“She indicated right from the outset, that although Marjorie was her legal name, she much preferred to be called by the shortened form of her second name.”
“That explains another thing that I was not only confused about but also dreaded to know…”
“I don’t understand, Camilla?”
“Before I explain that to you, can you tell me first who my father is…? Was it, Henry!?”
Mrs. Blake checked her files and then said, “Our records show that Henry was a boy that Jennifer was very fond of—”
Camilla swallowed hard not wanting to know, yet she knew she had to know the truth. “Mrs. Blake, is Henry…my father?”
“Our records show that the father is listed as “unknown.” Apparently there were some circumstances surrounding the pregnancy which I am not at liberty to discuss with you. That is something you will have to talk over with your biological mother if you wish to pursue this.”
“I need to know for certain, Mrs. Blake, that Henry was not the father.”
“Like I said, our records indicate no, however, Jenny could have been protecting Henry. But in all our discussions with Jennifer over the years when she phoned to see if she could seek you out she always maintained that Henry was not the father. Why is this so important to you, Camilla?”
“My husband’s father’s name is Henry, and in the summer of 1956 he had a girlfriend named Jennifer Sarsky, but Jenny moved to Ottawa that fall never to be heard from again. Ever since I married into the family and even from the first moment my husband introduced me to his dad, it was as though he was seeing a ghost from his past. Jeremy’s dad, Henry, said that I look just like the girl he once knew when he was fifteen. Since I already had strong feelings that I was adopted and the way Jeremy’s dad looked at me when we visited, I began to suspect that perhaps Jennifer Sarsky was my mother. The timing would have worked out perfectly, because I was born in the spring of 1957. What confused me however was the name Marjorie as Henry only knew of his girlfriend as Jenny. But now that you have explained that she preferred to be called Jenny, it’s possible that…”
Camilla couldn’t finish.
Mrs. Blake saw where this was going. “So Camilla, your worst nightmare, is that Henry, your father-in-law, is also the man who fathered you?”
“Oh Mrs. Blake, the thought of my husband being my half brother terrifies me, I just don’t know what to do…”
“Camilla, I understand your concern but we have to go by what the file says. Henry was not indicated as the father.”
It gave Camilla a glimmer of hope, “Is the name Peter in your files?”
Camilla heard papers shuffling and finally Mrs. Blake said, “No, that name nor any other man’s name beside Henry’s is in the file. Why do you ask?” Rita wanted to know.
“Last summer there was a celebration for our parish priest’s 25th anniversary in the priesthood. My father-in-law Henry, his best friend Eddy, and another friend of Eddy’s named Peter were all there. When I arrived, I noticed that Peter kept staring at me. At one point our gazes locked and I swear I felt the same kind of instant connection I felt over the phone when Ms. Hamilton called. Looking at him closely, I saw features of myself in him, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I resembled someone. Later I saw Peter and Henry talking, and when they both turned to look at me in unison, I would have sworn that they were talking about me.”
“So, you think that maybe, this Peter is your father?”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Blake. How can a man just come out of the blue like that and yet I feel that there’s this strong connection between us?”
A long silence passed through the lines and Camilla continued, “So, Mrs. Blake, why haven’t I heard from my real mother, yet?”
“Things are a little complicated Camilla. I received a call from your mother just last week. She wanted so much to make contact with you, but…I’m sorry to tell you this, but she contracted cancer last fall and was hospitalized. The cancer now has spread and unfortunately her situation is now terminal. She thought it best not to contact you under the circumstances. Why let you know only to leave again? And why disrupt the pleasant memories you had with the parents who raised you? She didn’t want to disrupt your life in this way… Are you okay for me to go on?”
Even though Camilla never knew her mother, hearing that she had cancer and was about to die, filled her with sorrow and tears.
“Yes, Mrs. Blake, I’m fine, please, go on.”
“As I was saying, Camilla, your mother called me just last week and it was to tell me she had had a change of heart. She said that if we could find you or if you should ever call while she was still alive, that it would be better for her to meet you in person, and answer any questions you might have, rather than have you spend the rest of your life wondering about her. In the event that she died and you inquired, then we were instructed to direct you to her lawyer. Apparently she’s written about the circumstances surrounding your birth and adoption and also a little about her life.”
Stunned by all she had learned, Camilla couldn’t help think of what had brought her to this time and place.
“You know, I only had vague suspicions and a feeling of not belonging in my own family before this. I would never have pursued any of it or searched for the truth, if
it wasn’t for the dream.”
“And what is that dream, Camilla?”
“Well, it may take a few minutes and I’ve already taken up so much of your time,…”
“That’s perfectly fine, Camilla, this is much too important to leave for tomorrow. Please, go ahead and share your dream, I’m interested in hearing about it.”
“Well, up until my early teens, whenever I asked my mother where I came from she would always tell me I came from the stork. When I was little she would show me a nursery book which showed pictures of a baby that she said was me, being delivered by a white stork. I loved that story, and the pictures showing me being carried by a sling at the end of the stork’s beak, flying through the air and landing on the doorstep of my parents’ home. It was so real to me that I firmly believed it and dreamed about it for years. But as I grew older, and started questioning my mother about where the stork had gotten me from in the first place, she was reluctant to talk about sexual matters and simply dismissed it with a casual remark that I would know soon enough. Looking back, I think it was not so much that she was uncomfortable talking about sex as it was a reluctance to take credit for giving birth to me. Are you still interested in this, Mrs. Blake? Should I go on?”
“Yes, this is quite fascinating, please continue.”
“As I grew older I stopped having that dream, at least until this past year after dad died, but this time, when it returned, it came back in a different form.
“In this new dream I am still wrapped in a blanket and still flying through the air, not by a stork but rather by an angel. Her hands are cradling me in outstretched arms as we sail on the back of the wind. Her long golden hair and gown fluttering in the breeze, and in the distance I can see a most radiant woman with arms outstretched, standing at the opening of a gazebo beckoning me to come home.
“And there are wildflowers, hundreds of them as far as the eye can see dazzling with such brilliant colour that I can barely keep my eyes on the woman. Tears of joy are glistening in the bright light as they flow down her cheeks…and now, here is the astounding thing, Mrs. Blake, but as we get closer and the woman’s features become more distinct I am shocked to see that the she looks just like me, and just as that realization hits, I wake up.
“How could I be delivered to myself? To me the only explanation is that perhaps the woman of my dream is actually my real mother.”
Mrs. Blake listened silently in awe as the story unfolded.
“Thank you so much for sharing that with me. I think it’s my turn to become emotional. Your dream is so clear to me and it will be to you as well, as I relate a little more of what your mother told me in our past two conversations. Your mother loves gazebos, wildflowers, and angels! She also related to me that she always considered you her beautiful wildflower. Do you see how this all fits in?”
“Oh, my gosh, I love all those things as well!”
“Just before your mother went into the hospital she had a round gazebo built in her backyard and surrounded it with wildflowers. She loved to sit and read there and be surrounded by nature. That’s the way she had it when she lived at home when she was young in Ottawa, also when she was married and lived on an estate just outside of Ottawa. Just next to her gazebo is a large white marble statue of an angel holding a basket. She calls it the Angel of Thanksgiving. Apparently not for receiving gifts from the angel, but for offering up wildflowers in thanksgiving for all the wonderful blessings she receives in her life.”
“What a lovely thing to do. The angel, the wildflowers…and we had a gazebo built last year too. Could it really all just be coincidence?”
“Wait there’s more,” Mrs. Blake continued. “The day she entered the hospital she told me she had placed a bouquet of flowers in the angel’s basket for you and her first love. She asked for a miracle – that she would be reunited with you both before she passed away—”
“Oh no! I just have to see her.
“Mrs. Blake you mentioned that my Mom placed flowers in the angel’s basket hoping to be reunited with me and her first love.
“Do you think that her first love is my father?”
And before Mrs. Blake could answer, Camilla continued, “Oh, I just hope and pray it’s not my husband’s father. The only glimmer of hope is that it might be Peter. The reason I say that is because in the dream that I just described to you, Peter is now also in the dream at the far end of the wildflower garden and his arms are outstretched as well, ready to receive the baby from the angel!”
There was dead silence. After considerable consideration of the facts Rita responded with reserved discretion.
“Camilla, since your birth mother is still alive and able to answer that question, I will leave that up to her to relate to you. In the event that Jenny passes on and you still don’t know who your father is, call me and we will have another chat.
“So let’s cross that bridge when we have too. If it’s any consolation to you Camilla, I have a feeling that Jenny was telling the truth that Henry is not the father. And as I said earlier, there is something on file here that I still have not shared with you and that is the circumstances surrounding your conception. Hopefully Jenny will share that with you and then you will understand why I still believe that it is someone other than your father-in-law who is your biological father.”
Camilla could no longer hold back her tears. It was all too much.
“When your call came through, this morning,” continued Mrs. Blake. “I called the care home where Jennifer last phoned from. I wished to speak with her and make certain she was still willing to see you if you called. I was informed however that she was too ill at that time to speak to anyone. I therefore took it upon myself, based on her last instructions to me to let you know where she is since she is still alive.
“Should you decide not to pursue this she did want me to personally tell you that she always regretted giving you up for adoption and that you were in her mind and heart each and every day of her life and that she loves you more than you will ever know.”
Camilla couldn’t speak for the longest moment.
“In what care home is she in, in Ottawa?” Camilla inquired between sobs.
“What?”
“What care home is she in, in Ottawa? I need to see her as soon as possible.”
“Oh Camilla, I can’t believe I haven’t told you yet, you’re not going to believe this, but she’s not in Ottawa, she’s there, in Regina. Stanley told her you live there, and after her own mother passed away, Jenny moved to Regina in the hope of meeting up with you.”
Camilla was momentarily speechless.
Her real mother was here in Regina?
“But…that’s unbelievable.”
“Yes, it is amazing how these things happen. When a person has a dream in their heart for something, somehow God and the entire universe all seem to work together to make it come true. I’ve seen it happen over and over and am still in awe how events are created to make one’s dreams come to pass.”
“But Mrs. Blake, she called my Dad almost a year and a half ago, she could have easily followed up on all of this back then, before she was ill. Why didn’t she? Why has she waited so long?”
“In a way it’s a similar concern that you have over who your father is. Because she and Henry were once sweethearts, Jenny was worried that she might cause trouble between him and his wife. It was something she was very adamant about not doing.”
“But Henry is no longer married,” exclaimed Camilla. “His wife died several years ago.”
There was a long silence before Mrs. Blake spoke again. “Camilla, you need to go to your mother’s side and tell her. Tell her that Henry is widowed, that he’s no longer married. I have a feeling you will make her extremely happy. But time is of the essence, please don’t delay.”
Of course, but you haven’t yet told me what care home she is in?”
&n
bsp; “Yes, let me see now…”
Mrs. Blake shuffled papers around.“Here it is… It’s the Santa Maria Care Home.”
“I know where that is…”
“Try to go first thing in the morning. She is quite ill by the sounds of it and she may be most alert in the morning after a long night’s rest.”
“Yes, of course. Oh, I can hardly wait!”
“I do hope and pray everything turns out well. It’s been such a joy meeting and talking to you on the phone. Please don’t hesitate to call me at any time. I know what you are going through as I…was given up for adoption at one time, too.” Camilla could sense Mrs. Blake’s emotion rise. There was silence for the longest moment as they all seemed to share one thing in common.
“Thank you so much for all your time, Mrs. Blake, it was so kind of you. I would never have understood the dream I was having without your input and the other information you gave was so helpful, as well.”
“You are most welcome, Camilla, and as I said, please call me at any time.”
Camilla hung the phone up and stood up. She heard a noise and turned slowly to see Jeremy standing in the hallway, a look of both worry and amazement on his face.
“How much did you hear?”
“I heard it all…”
“Oh Jeremy I’m so sorry, I wanted to tell you that I had found proof that I was adopted, and that I knew who my real mother was, but …”
“But you still don’t know who your father is. I don’t know either Camilla, I only know that it could never have been my father. That’s just not the kind of man he is. As strange as it might be, it just could possibly be Peter. But I think the only way we’ll know for sure is for you to go to the care home tomorrow, meet Jenny, and find out from her.”
Jeremy took her in his arms and held her tight.
“I love you so much, Camilla. Do you want me to come with you in the morning?”
The Angelic Occurrence Page 66
