Ties That Bind by Debbie White Page B

Irma didn’t want to adopt me, why didn’t she turn me over to the authorities when they reported finding me? Instead, they raised me as their own.”
    “Maybe Lyle was your real dad,” she said candidly.
    It was strange how this lady, Louise, Cousin Louise, as she was now known, had gone from mean and not wanting anything to do with us, to the most helpful woman on earth. I just had to know what made her decide to open up.
    “Why are you sharing all this information with us now? You were determined not to talk to us. What changed your mind?”
    “I decided that the secrets were kept long enough. I mean this is the year 1985. Who cares what people did back in the day? I, for one, don’t.”
    “Do you have any other secrets to reveal?” Charles asked in his best investigator’s voice.
    “Well, just that I have a couple of addresses you might want to check out,” she said as she scribbled some things down.
     
    ***
     
    We drove to the address Louise wrote down in search of my brother. We pulled up alongside a cemetery. Charles and I took a second glance at the address on the paper and compared it to the street marker. It was the same. We parked the car and walked amongst the graves. Soon we were standing in front of a marker that read, “Thomas Bowman.”
    “Why didn’t she tell us he died?” Charles said in disgust.
    “I really need to talk to Teresa again,” I said walking away, but not before taking a picture of the grave marker.

Chapter Fourteen
     
     
    The next few days we were busy putting the pieces to the giant jigsaw puzzle in place. Our table wasn’t suitable for eating anymore as newspaper clippings, and scribbled notes on yellow legal size pads dotted the surface. Just like old times, we made our way to the large oval coffee table and there among the overflow of data, we’d eat most of our meals.
    “This next meeting with Francis is crucial,” Charles said as he worked diligently piecing events in chronological order.
    I watched as Charles made a timeline. He scratched things out, added more items, deleted others and on and on he went. My head was spinning from all the dates, places, and names. I hoped he was right, and Francis would end the torture of me not knowing where I came from.
    I realized it wasn’t important to some adopted children to know their earliest beginnings. It might not have been for me either had it not been for all the hints that were dropped, and the meanness of my mother. I’m sure I’m not the only child ever adopted into a family where one or maybe even both parents are mean, but I’d like to think it is a rare occurrence.
    I went into the bathroom to freshen up. We were going to be leaving soon to see Francis. The coffee shop was so convenient before, we stayed with the location for our second meeting.
    We were fully prepared this time. Charles had a small recorder, and I armed myself with a brand new yellow legal pad. I learned shorthand while in business school, and every now and then, it came in handy.
     
    ***
     
    We arrived a little bit early and reserved our table. Charles sat himself facing the door so he’d know when Francis entered the establishment. I was feeling nervous; the butterflies in my stomach were fluttering away. I had a small wave of nausea come over me as well, but after a few sips of water, I wished it away.
    Francis didn’t keep us waiting too long. He sat down in the empty booth and placed a large photo album on the tabletop in front of us. I was quite sure it had to be pictures of my family and I. Why else would he bring it?
    “Thank you for meeting us today, Francis,” Charles said looking at me for approval.
    “Yes, thank you,” I added.
    He cleared his throat. “This here is a photo album that spans about thirty years or more.”
    I instinctively reached for the album carefully opening the cover. I flipped through the pages until I came across one I remembered. It was a picture of Daddy, Teresa and I standing in front of our