WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES

We were still sitting around the table, just finishing up our supper, when the telephone rang. My daughter, who was 16 at the time and considered the device her personal property, grabbed it up on the second ring.

“For you,” she said, hardly hiding her disappointment. She shrugged as she handed me the receiver, her way of telling me she didn’t recognize the caller.

“Hello?” I queried.

“Is this R.B.?” The voice was female, and young, and there was an accent of some kind. I answered that yes, it was me, I heard her take a deep breath. My curiosity was immediately aroused.

There was a moment of silence, then it seemed she decided to take the plunge. “You don’t know me,” she said. Her voice was soft and hesitant. “My name is J.L. but, when I was born, the name on my birth certificate was R.B.”

“What???” Neither my first nor surname is all that common. Had I heard her right? In spite of my rather abrupt response, she continued, her words now tumbling out quickly.

“I was adopted as a baby by a family in New Brunswick. They have been helping me trace my real parents. Someone gave me your number. I hope I’m not making a mistake by calling you?”

When I’m startled, my mind goes scurrying all over the place. Not mine, I was thinking incoherently. I had been pretty wild during the famous ‘60’s. You know - the years of which it is said ‘If you can remember them, you weren’t there’? But no way could I ever forget having a child! Then it came to me. My dad! He had travelled around a lot for his job, and we’ve all heard the travelling salesman jokes. None of this turbulence was evident in my tone when I requested that she go on. She did.

“I found my mother. She lives in Vancouver now, and her name is P.” I recognized the name, and was shaking my head in disbelief even before she confirmed it. “P. tells me that my father was C., and that he is your brother.”

Great Scott! My brother?? The single, man-about-town, bad boy who was definitely NOT the father type in his present state? I groped for and found a chair, then sat as I listened to dates, times; how her mom admitted that my bro had been told there was an abortion, and could I please give her the information to contact her father?

No. Not a good idea. Instead of telling her that I was playing it safe, I said that I would take her information and would relay it to my brother. He would be allowed to make the choice if he wanted to get in touch with her or not. She was disappointed, but agreed, and we made plans to talk again the next day.

My brother lived an 8 hour drive away. Quite sure that he would be partying hard at that time of night, I decided to wait until the next day to warn the new dad. I called around 10 AM, thinking to catch him sober. What I could not have known was that the party was still going on. I thought he was just sleepy when he answered the phone. I told him about the young lady who was looking for her father, and who it was supposed to be.

“That’s a damned thing to hit a man with first thing in the morning!” he declared, then he immediately hung up on me! Okay, so much for that, I thought. I wasn’t really surprised. His way of life left no room for children.

He called back within the hour. “Say that again?” he asked. He was incredulous when he heard the story. He was also ecstatic. His ex-wife had not wanted children, much to his dismay. And now, out of the blue, he had a daughter. He remembered the mother, P., quite well, the events surrounding her teenage pregnancy, and the abortion explanation. “I’ll call her as soon as I quit shaking”, he told me. He did, and it was arranged that we all meet at my house in Quebec within a month’s time. J’s adopted family sent someone to check up on our living conditions first; they loved her dearly and didn’t want to see her hurt. Satisfied, they allowed her to spend a week with us. It changed my brother’s life. He settled down some, moved to my area, and the contact with J., although sporadic because of the distance, has been kept and cherished.

This all happened years ago, but I’ve told this story because J. will be here this weekend. She has a daughter of her own now, and has been more consistent in keeping touch since my brother was diagnosed with cancer. It’s cute to see how excited he gets as he prepares for her visit.

And for me? This weekend my house will be happily full again as my family gathers to welcome her, and that makes me SMILE!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.