by Zina Abbott
“They were married in a Lutheran church?” Jennie asked. “Are you and Dad Lutheran?”
“No,” Pat shook her head. “Our mother was raised Methodist, and I don’t think my father’s family had any particular church they went to. I remember us kids going to some small local missionary church when we were little, but by the time I was in school, our family didn’t attend any church.”
“So Sherrie was Lutheran?”
“Maybe she was when she was younger,” Pat said caustically. “But based on her reaction to having a church wedding, I don’t think Sherrie ascribed to any type of religion. I seem to recall that Ellen and her sister were staunch Lutherans. Ellen is the one who scheduled the church for the wedding.”
The wedding invitation was passed around until it ended back with Pat.
“I’ll scan a copy of this, too,” said Pat.
“So, a marriage license asks where the bride and the groom were born and the names and birthplaces of their parents?” asked Jennie as she continued to study the official license. “I didn’t know that.”
“They did at that point in time,” said Pat. “I don’t know if they always did. You’ll need to ask your friends in that genealogy family-thingy club you go to about that.”
“Family Ties,” Jennie corrected her. “It’s Golden Oaks Family Ties.”
“Oh, and here, Christy, you may have this engagement picture of your parents.”
Jennie watched her mother smile as she looked at it, as if the picture had some special meaning. She passed the photo to Jan.
When it was Jennie’s turn to look at it, she exclaimed, “She’s beautiful!”
“I’ll have to tell you about my angel sometime, Jennie,” Christy said. She had related most of her life story to Jennie, but had not included the part about her baby dreams.
“Yes, they had their happy times as far as we could see,” said Pat. “But, overall, it was a tumultuous marriage. They really did not belong together.”
The third document from the envelope was Christy’s original birth certificate.
“Grandma, didn’t you and Grandpa need this to adopt Mom?” asked Jennie.
“I’m sure we did, but the lawyer that your grandfather was working with handled everything. He probably ordered a duplicate copy,” said Jan.
Jennie studied the original birth certificate for Christy. “Mom, may I scan these when we get home?”
“Here,” Christy said as she handed Jennie the envelope. “You can keep everything, including the engagement picture. I have my birth certificate that Mom gave me. That’s all I need.”
Momentarily speechless, Jennie mouthed “Thank you” to her mother. Jennie carefully slid the documents and the picture of her grandfather and Sherrie into the large yellow envelope and put the envelope in her tote.
“Great-Aunt Pat, I know Mom told me she was adopted by Grandma shortly after she and Grandpa were married,” said Jennie. “In the pictures you have of Mom at the wedding, she looks like she was two or three years old. But, the last bunch of pictures you have of Mom were when she turned one year old. Grandpa Mike already told us at Thanksgiving that Sherrie took Mom away. Do you know where Sherrie took Mom, or if there were any pictures from those years?”
“No. I never did hear the details,” said Pat, shaking her head. “My brother was in such a funk about the whole situation, he refused to discuss details with the family. He did tell me when he filed for divorce and that his private investigator eventually found Sherrie and Christy. I assumed they were making arrangements to bring Christy home. The next thing I knew, we received a telephone call from Mike telling us that Christy was home and he and Jan were getting married up in Reno that Saturday, which was the weekend before Thanksgiving. If we could make it, they would love to have us there. So away we went to their wedding.”
“Camera in hand,” said Jennie.
“Of course!”
“Okay,” Jennie continued, “but if Grandpa Mike isn’t willing to say anything else, and if you don’t know what happened, who can we talk to? How can we find out where Sherrie went and how they found her and Mom and what happened to Sherrie?”
The four women looked at each other as they thought about it. Gradually, Pat and Christy and Jennie all turned to look at Jan.
Jennie pulled her recorder out of her tote and turned it on.
Chapter 29 – Jan
I don’t remember the first time I noticed Mike. At first I probably just thought, this must be Jim’s day off because we have a new mailman today. I eventually learned that Mike was the carrier assigned to cover the route when Jim was off work. He showed up fairly regularly, at least one day most weeks. So, I better just start at about the time Mike asked me to help him locate Sherrie and Christy.
I was working as an administrative assistant for a large insurance group in Stockton. I had started as a file clerk, then I was a receptionist and I worked my way up. As you know, I’m two years older than Mike, which made me twenty-eight years old at the time. I had already accepted the fact that I probably would never marry, or, if I did, it would be to someone who had been married before. So, I was no longer waiting for my prince charming to come and sweep me off my feet and carry me away on his white steed. I was building a career for myself.
But as Mike continued to deliver mail as Jim’s T-6, of course I noticed him. He was a very good-looking man! But, I also noticed the gold band on his left ring finger. Then I remember the day he came in, all smiles, and announced that he had a new baby daughter.
A year or so later, I knew something had happened when I didn’t see him for several weeks and then, when I saw him again, he looked very depressed. He said hello to me like he always did when we exchanged mail, but I could tell his heart was not in it. I wanted to say something, but it would have been impolite for me to pry. It was not long before I noticed his wedding band was missing. The white line against his tan finger jumped out at me. That was when I suspected the nature of what was bothering him.
Because I was aware of my growing attraction to him, I kept it very professional between us. The last thing I wanted to do was give the impression I was chasing him. I have friends who learned the hard way what problems can develop by getting in the middle of someone else’s marital problems.
But he seemed so sad. On impulse one day, I asked if everything was okay and if I could do anything to help. I was sincere, but I could have kicked myself once I realized what I had done. The words were out of my mouth, though. There was nothing else to do but to be pleasant and diplomatically back away once he said no.
I could have dropped my teeth when he asked if I could help him find a good private investigator. I didn’t really know of any. If the insurance companies we represented needed services of that nature, they tended to handle it at the home office level. But, I had offered to help. I figured that if I could research everything in the world and type up my findings for my boss, I could use a little of my break time to do the same for the mailman.
I didn’t know if most local P.I.s handled all kinds of investigations or if they specialized. Just in case I needed to know, I asked him the nature of what he needed to investigate. My heart nearly broke when he told me his wife had left him and taken his daughter without telling him where they were going. He needed to find his baby girl.
I didn’t even consider until later that there might be a good reason why his wife up and disappeared with his daughter. I mean, Mike didn’t strike me as being that kind of man, but you never know.
I approached a couple of people at work using the “I have a friend who…” routine. One of the agents gave me a couple of names. On my break, I called them. One P.I. said that for something like that, my “friend” should probably get an attorney to handle all the legalities. He gave me the names of some of the attorneys he worked with.
Mike stopped by after he got off work. It was late and there were only a few of us left in the office. I was on salary by then, so I quite often ended up staying late.
I gave him the list along with a brief review of what I had learned. He thanked me. I didn’t see or speak to him again for several months except for when he delivered the mail.
Then, one day he came by after work and asked me if I would go out on a date with him. I felt awkward, but I told him that as a matter of personal policy, I don’t date married men. That was when I found out that, among other things, he had recently filed for divorce. He thought that for all practical purposes he was free to date. I didn’t look at it that way.
My mother was raised Mormon, and even though she stopped going to church before she met my father, she still raised us kids with the same values that her parents believed in. I’ve appreciated those values as I’ve grown older. Even then, I had decided I wanted to raise my children, if I was fortunate to have any, the same way.
One of my mother’s teachings was that we should never date anyone going through a divorce. Instead, we should wait until after the divorce is final. She felt strongly that as long as the divorce wasn’t final, the husband and wife could decide at any time to continue their marriage. It was wrong to be part of the reason behind the final break-up of a family that could have otherwise worked things out. It took me several years before I understood what she was talking about.
Some of my friends thought my beliefs on this subject were ridiculous. But, by the time I met Mike, I had already been around enough to see most of my friends married, some of them divorced, and at least two girlfriends who were deeply hurt when the men they loved broke up with them to go back to their wives. One, and this was really sad, had already set the wedding date for the day after his divorce was final. Her parents had already mailed out the wedding invitations. Then, two weeks before the man’s first marriage was to end, he went back to his wife to give it another try for the sake of the children.
I did not feel the need to learn everything the hard way through my own experience. So, even though I really wanted to date Mike, I told him no. I explained as kindly as I could why not. Then I jokingly told him that if he was still interested when his divorce was final to ask me out again.
Mike said he would. He seemed to accept my decision with no problem. But let me tell you, when he walked out of the door that night, I felt my heart sink to the floor. I knew that the chances of him still being interested in dating me when he was free were slim to none. I figured he would quickly find some other woman who wasn’t as particular about things like that and he would be tied up with her when his divorce was final.
I remember the day he was grinning from ear to ear when he came to deliver the mail. His eyes literally sparkled when he told me he thought they had found his daughter. He asked if he could stop by after he got off work to show me some pictures and get my opinion. I felt that was appropriate enough, so I told him yes.
That evening, he returned carrying a large envelope. He sat in the chair next to my desk and showed me several large glossy black and white photos that looked like they had been taken from several feet off the ground using a telephoto lens. The primary subject of the pictures was a light-haired woman and, in most of them, a little light-haired child who looked about two years old. In some of the pictures, the woman was dressed in bell-bottom pants and a loose blouse, gathered at the neck. In others, she wore a long jumper and blouse. In some, her hair was unkempt. In others, where she was hoeing a vegetable garden, it was covered by a kerchief. She was quite attractive.
The little girl was clothed in dresses mid-calf in length. They looked like some of the old-fashioned baby clothes worn by both boys and girls a century ago. One picture showed the stark naked backside of the little girl as she faced the woman. They held hands like they were dancing. That picture was the clearest shot of the woman’s face.
The last picture showed the woman sprawled on the grass, her feet and legs shaded by a tree. She had flowers and leaves scattered around her face and shoulders. A short, thin man dressed in jeans, sandals and a tunic shirt who wore long hair and a short beard was walking away from the woman. In his arms, he carried the little girl. I later learned that his name was Ozzie.
Mike told me about this man and I soon realized how strongly he disliked Ozzie. Ozzie used to hang around Sherrie in Stockton. Mike suspected that he was the one who persuaded her to leave.
While we looked at the photos, Mike pulled out his wallet and showed me a baby picture. I remember shaking my head at the chewed up and grimy condition of the photo. The baby in the picture was about a year old. She was a beautiful child. She still had very little hair on her head, but it was blonde. Her eyes were a beautiful blue.
“She’s changed a lot, but I’m positive the little girl in these pictures is my daughter. I know that’s my soon-to-be ex-wife, Sherrie. What do you think?”
I compared the picture from his wallet to the more recent photos. I told him it looked like the same child to me, but I was no expert.
“They’re in a commune up in Oregon,” Mike said. “It’s some new utopia-type hippie thing where they all live together as one family with open relationships and no pairing off.”
I remember Mike smirked when he said that.
“Supposedly, all the children belong to everyone in the commune,” he continued, his voice expressing his disgust. “Sherrie goes by ‘Angel’ now and is not using either Smith or Carpenter as her last name. That’s one reason it took so long to locate her. They call my daughter ‘Starlight’ now. Starlight! Can you believe that? But, in spite of everything, we found them. It’s costing me a bundle, but it’s worth it.”
“That’s wonderful, Mike! How long before you will be able to bring your daughter home?”
“That’s the problem,” Mike’s face clouded over. “They’re up in another state. My lawyer says that the California courts recognize the child custody rights that were granted to me, but the Oregon courts don’t have the same obligation, especially since my daughter is with her mother up there and doesn’t appear to be in any danger. My lawyer says I just have to hang loose until we can work something out.”
I could tell Mike was not a person to hang loose, especially when it came to his daughter. I had started to feel hopeful about him and me when he asked to share his news about his daughter. But, a new worry popped into my head at that point.
“Does that mean you won’t be able to finalize your divorce?”
“Oh, no! My divorce will be final in a couple of months either way—fifty-six days, in fact. My lawyer went through the whole notification process that they have to use when the person you want to serve has disappeared. The investigator did manage to officially serve her when some of them from the commune made a trip into town for supplies. So she knows. The problem is getting Christy back.”
I remembered focusing on the fifty-six days. I wondered if he had found another girlfriend. I wasn’t about to ask if he might still be interested in dating me once he was free. Women just did not ask questions like that back then. But, trust me. I did mark the date on my calendar.
I actually relented a little bit before the fifty-six days were up. The next time Mike had some news about Christy, he asked if he could meet me for lunch to talk about it. I rationalized that it wasn’t really a date, and I made a point to pay for my own meal. But, we started meeting for his half-hour lunch break on the days he worked the route and for an hour lunch on his relief days. Needless to say, I really looked forward to those lunch meetings.
His attorneys were not only trying to get physical custody of Christy, they were trying to convince Sherrie to relinquish her parental rights. In addition to the pot smoking in the commune, the investigators had discovered that Sherrie was a heavy LSD user. The plan was, if she was not willing to grant all parental rights for Christy to Mike voluntarily, they were going to Oregon and press charges against her for illegal drug use and being an unfit mother.
“What are we going to do a week from Friday?” He surprised me with that question one day at our lunch meeting. “It’s my long weekend, so I have all day. I’m free
Saturday, too.”
“A week from Friday?” I stammered, caught totally off-guard. Then I remembered. His divorce was final a week from Friday. In Mike’s typical “romantic” fashion, he was asking me out on a date.
****
I remember that first official date. I left work early that Friday. We went to this great Mexican restaurant and to a show. We spent most of Saturday together, too. After that, we were a couple. Three weeks later, he asked me to marry him. Of course, my answer was yes.
He wanted to get married as soon as possible, as long as it wasn’t the second week in December. I wanted to give my parents enough time to organize and put aside the money for the wedding. We set the date for Valentine’s Day.
I let Mike know that I was a virgin and that I intended to stay that way until my wedding night. He accepted that.
Pill or no pill, in my day, most people still believed the same way I did and still do: Loose morals are not healthy for society and do not lead to strong families. In society back then, those women with loose morals were thought of as sluts. Well, I refused to be a slut!
Of course, a lot of Mike’s focus was on getting Christy back. I was behind him one hundred percent because I knew from the start that they came as a package deal. I guess the investigator was really pushing hard up in Oregon. Mike said there wasn’t much communication directly with Sherrie. They were working mainly through Ozzie.
One Friday, he picked me up after work and I could tell he was in a rotten mood.
“What’s wrong, Mike?” I asked, worried that he was angry with me.
“Ozzie told our man up in Oregon that Sherrie is ready to give Christy back to me. I can come for her any time. They’re pretty sure Sherrie is willing to sign away her parental rights. So, I picked up the papers from the lawyer on my lunch break today.”
“Why, that sounds like wonderful news, Mike. What’s bothering you?”
Mike slammed his palm on the steering wheel in frustration.
“I have to work tomorrow and there’s not enough time to get up there and back on Sunday. Besides, I don’t get paid until next Friday—Thursday night, actually, since my long weekend starts Friday. I don’t really have enough money to make the trip this weekend, anyway. But, I don’t know if I can stand to wait a week to go get her!”
