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Sandy Discovers her Father and Travels to Belgium to Find Him

Chapter Seventy-Two

The name La Roche-en-Ardenne — her father’s last known address — kept rolling around inside Sandy’s head. She and Jeff had talked about it for a long time after they had finally tracked him down. However, getting on a plane and flying to Belgium was such a challenge they eventually stopped talking about it.

Not telling her sisters Yvonne and Rosie about her father still troubled her. Growing up, they had been very close. However, after a couple of failed marriages, Yvonne seemed to pull away and moved to Colorado and Rosie never seemed to stay in any meaningful relationships for too long. Now, the three sisters weren’t very close — they hardly ever talked except on birthdays and holidays.

She knew Yvonne’s birthday was coming up soon

and she would have to call her. Sandy didn’t know if she should finally tell her they didn’t have the same father. Jeff thought being honest was the best way to handle it, but she was still reluctant to mention it.

Dreading the conversation, she picked up the phone and called Yvonne on her birthday.

After a couple of rings, Yvonne answered, “Hello?”

“Yvonne, it’s me, Sandy. Happy Birthday, Sis. I’d sing Happy Birthday, but you’d probably hang up on me,” Sandy laughed, knowing she had a terrible singing voice.

“Thanks, Sandy. I really appreciate you calling me and I certainly appreciate you not singing. How have you been?”

“Everything is just great. Jeff got a promotion a couple of months ago and he doesn’t have to travel as much. It’s really nice to have him home every night.”

“I know what you mean. I’d like to have someone come home to me every night.”

“Don’t give up. Mr. Right may be just around the corner. How’s work going?”

“Boring, but at least I get a regular paycheck. That helps pay the bills.”

“Yvonne, I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while now. Is this a good time to talk?”

“Sure. I’ve got nothing to do. Just another uneventful day even though it’s my birthday.”

“Maybe now’s not a good time. Sounds as though you’re feeling kinda down. Maybe later?”

“No, Sandy. I get this way sometimes when the weather’s gloomy and I realize I’m another year older. Wish I had moved to Florida, instead. Anyway, what do you want to talk about?”

Diving in, “Do you remember how I always said that you, me, and Rosie must have had different parents because we’re all so different?”

“Yes.”

“Well. I was right.”

“You’re not gonna tell me we’re all adopted, are you?” Yvonne asked, half-laughing.

“No. We’re not adopted, but you and I don’t have the same father.”

There was a very long pause at the other end of the line. “What? I’m not too sure what you mean. Are you saying that you and I don’t have the same father, but we have the same mother? How did that happen? I always thought John was our father.”

“I thought so, too, but just before Mom died, she told me my father’s name is William Bowers. That’s all she was willing to tell me. She also hinted there was a box somewhere in her apartment that would explain everything,” Sandy paused.

“Go on. I’m listening.”

“After we buried her, I returned to her apartment and found a shoebox full of letters she had written to someone named Bill Bowers and there were others he had written to her. They were married before she even met John.”