WHITHER THOU GOEST 4 - RUTH'S STORY - PART 2

On Saturday I gave myself a good talking-to and decided I had too much to do to be sitting  around moping, so I made us a pot of coffee and took it into Daddy’s study to resume my investigations; for a start I needed to locate a Will.

I set Danny the task of going through the diaries I had found in the filing cabinet, while I continued to go through the many drawers of the fine old Colonial style desk with its fine writing tablet and framed photos of me and Mom and Dad in younger days.

I was sipping my coffee and idly rifling through a pile of folders when I noticed a partially concealed drawer.  This I opened, and found a box file.  It contained several photos of a girl of about 19 or 20, always smiling and goofing about.  From the rural setting, the clothes and the exotic fruit trees in the pictures I guessed this was taken on the kibbutz round about the time I was born.  And I was riveted by one small photo of that same girl holding a newborn baby with a mop of dark curly hair.  Like mine.

A large brown envelope contained several letters from Daddy’s lawyers and others in New York and the UK too.  One in particular caught my attention:

Dear Mr Kaufmann,

You may not recognise my name, but I hope you will remember my daughter, Sarah Lenora Strawinski.  She gave birth to a daughter at the Sharona kibbutz, on the same day that your wife Julia was registered as having given birth to your daughter.

Sarah has only just revealed all this to us, and I have employed lawyers an investigators who are all convinced that you are the father of my granddaughter, and removed her from my daughter’s care soon after birth, when she was weak and afraid after the birth and too vulnerable to object.  They have also told me that there is no real evidence for this, except Sarah’s own word.

All I ask is that you send news of the child, and maybe a photograph?  No doubt you will want to consult your own lawyers, but I appeal to your humanity, Father to Father, as the decent person my daughter still believes you to be.  I pray you will find it in your heart to do this for Sarah.

Yours,

Jacob Strawinski.

My head was throbbing and my heart was bursting as I showed it to Danny.  He read it all very carefully, and we agreed that the fact that my Dad had, through his lawyers, sent Jacob photos and information for a few years, was conclusive proof of the story now unfolding before us.  We did wonder if the correspondence had actually stopped a few years later or whether Dad had just stopped keeping copies; but I did notice it ended round about the time we moved to Ohio.

That move, like subsequent ones,  had happened quite suddenly, soon after Momma had returned from a short stay with some school friend. Momma had been crying more than usual, and began packing stuff into boxes.  The Grandparents helped out, and there was one hell of a lot of crying going on, not least from me.  And that was our life from then on in.  Daddy would go off on business, Momma would cry for days, go off to the doctors maybe even the hospital for a few days – she never let anyone go with her on these appointments, and Daddy said just let her be, so I did. I never knew when I would be left on my own - and no sooner had I settled in a new place, off we would go again.

So here we were, just Danny and me puzzling over these letters, me trying to make sense out of what I had thought to be my life.  The sensible one as ever, Danny took charge and said he would take the folder and make further enquiries.  I carried on sorting Dad’s affairs, and the Will when we found it held no surprises:  everything left to me, his only child.

Eventually Danny came to me with a full report from an investigator he had hired.  This confirmed as far as possible everything in the letters and folders.  It seems that my beloved Daddy had indeed stolen me away from my real mother, Sarah Strawinski.  Oh boy, I was angry!  And so very sad.  Angry most at my Momma, or should I now call her Julia, for allowing this to happen.  Sad because my whole life had been a lie, and I had a whole family out there somewhere that I had never known.  Maybe even sisters or brothers!

I cried bitter tears in Dannys’ arms that night.  We talked late into the night, and I decided that I must at least meet my Mother Sarah, and give her the chance to tell me her side of the story.  Danny took his arm from around me, and went to fetch his laptop.  He handed it to me silently, and I read the name and address of my Mother, Sarah Strawinski Green, together with her phone number and e-mail address.

For weeks I exchanged emails with Sarah; I discovered that I had a half-sister and a half-brother, as well as a neice and nephew.  Danny and I had no children yet, so this was exciting news for me.  We exchanged photos, and several months down the line, Sarah wrote one day: ‘Don’t be afraid to say no if you think it’s too soon; but would you like to come over to meet us all?  You and Danny, of course!’  It took no deep thoughts for me to reply in the affirmative; and here I am, sitting in my hire car in the driveway of Sarah’s house.  I came alone in the end;  I felt this was my moment, and Sarah’s – and if it all turned out okay, Danny could come over on my next visit – if there was to be one.  I can hear voices in the back garden – and the gate’s opening.  Oh my Gosh!  That must be Sarah!

Wish me luck!