Collective identity, p.7
Collective Identity, page 7
part #4 of Commitment Series
"Something like that."
Jen grabbed the key from his hand. "Gimme that," she said. "I'll be back with my friend. She isn't going to be happy about this," Jen warned.
"Just doing my job, lady," he said.
* * *
"Hello there, Billie," the elderly priest said as Billie entered his office. He stood to shake her hand. "So good to see you again. Sit down, sit down," he said, indicating the chair by his desk. "Why it's been a few years since I've seen you at church. What brings you around for a visit today?" he asked.
Billie settled herself into the chair opposite the priest's desk before speaking. "Well, father," she began. "My wife and I are doing research for a family tree and I was wondering if I could search the church records for information on my parents," she explained.
The priest looked up at her sharply. "What did you say?" he asked abruptly.
Billie took a deep breath. He's so old, he probably can't hear a word I'm saying, she thought. She repeated her request. "I said I would like to search the church records for information on my parents."
"No, not that. What did you say before that?"
Billie frowned and thought back to her words of a few minutes ago. Suddenly, she understood what the old priest was asking.
Being careful not to lose her temper, lest she misunderstood the priest's intentions, Billie repeated what she had said earlier. "I said that my wife and I are doing research, and I..."
"I thought that's what you said!" he interrupted angrily. "You are the devil's spawn! Living in sin and fornication with a woman! I told your parents you would bring them nothing but heartache. I told them it was a bad idea to bring you into their lives. I warned them, but they refused to listen," he ranted.
Billie narrowed her eyes at the old man. "What exactly does that mean?" she demanded.
The old priest sat back in his chair, putting as much distance between them as he could. "I told them it was a mistake... that it couldn't possibly be God's will. It just wasn't right! And now God is punishing them with a she-devil of a daughter," he spat.
Billie placed her hands on the desk and leaned closer. "Explain yourself!" she insisted. "How on earth can bringing a child into your life be a mistake?" she asked angrily.
Traitorous emotions paraded across the old man's face as he struggled to maintain control of his temper. Finally, he thrust his hand forward and pointed toward the door.
"Leave this place, do you hear me! There is no room in God's temple for the likes of you," he shouted.
Billie grew angrier and angrier at each word the old man spoke.
"You are nothing but an evil, bigoted old man," she said in a deep, even voice. "I should have known better than to come here for help. What my parents saw in this church and in this faith is beyond me. You are not the first, nor will you be the last to oppose 'my kind'. You and your beliefs mean nothing to me. Now, I came here for a reason, and I am not leaving until that reason has been satisfied. If you think you can remove me bodily from the premises then have at it, otherwise, I expect you to grant me access to the church records on my parents. If you refuse me access, I will pursue a court order. Is that clear?" she asked, her face a mere inch from the old man's nose, the cords of her neck strained to their limits.
Billie held her stare, daring the old man to call her bluff. Finally, he looked away and swallowed. "As you wish," he said. "Follow me."
Billie followed the priest to a room at the back of the rectory. It was lined with dusty old shelves, filled with file folders and boxes.
Billie looked around skeptically. "Please tell me they're filed alphabetically," she said.
"They are organized by last name. Do your business, then leave," he answered. He stopped at the door and turned around. "You may find what you are looking for, but you may not like what you find."
With that, he was gone.
Billie looked at the closed door, apprehension filling her every pore. I wonder what he meant by that? she thought before turning her attention to the dusty shelves before her.
"Okay, let's see how this room is organized."
She pulled a box from the shelf, took it to the table and removed the cover then picked up the document lying on top and read the name Paxton. "Well, I've found the P's," she said. After scanning a few more boxes and folders, she determined that the shelves were organized in a serpentine fashion, with the top shelf arranged left to right, the next one down arranged right to left and so on.
It wasn't long before she found the section containing the W's. "Waitsfield, Walters, Warren, Waterman," she recited out loud until she came across the box containing information on her parents.
She braced herself for what she might find inside the box as she pulled it from the shelf and carried it to the table. Slowly, she removed the lid and placed it on the table beside the box before rummaging through the contents. In it, she found a copy of her baptism record, first communion and confirmation records, as well as certification papers declaring her father a deacon of the church.
"That's funny," she said to herself. "I didn't know Dad was a deacon." She continued to dig deeper into the contents of the box.
The box seemed to be organized by date, with the oldest material at the bottom, and the most recent on top. About half way through the box, she came across several receipts for church donations, made out to a man named Darren Walton.
"Huh," Billie mused. "They must have misfiled these receipts."
Billie carried the receipts back to the shelves and began looking for a file with the name Walton on it. No such file existed. Billie was perplexed. She returned to her parents' box on the table and continued rummaging through it. A short time later, she realized that all of the paperwork in the bottom half of the box contained the name Darren Walton on them, and a few with the name Emma Walton.
Billie suddenly became sick to her stomach. She sat at the table and rested her forehead on her crossed arms. What does this mean? she thought.
She lifted her head and stared at the neat piles she had created, one for Walton and the other for Waterman. A thought suddenly struck her. She quickly combed through each of the documents in both piles and verified her suspicions. All of the documents in the Walton pile were dated prior to March thirtieth, nineteen-eighty, and all of the documents in the Waterman pile were dated on or after that date. Billie went through the stack of papers again and came across a black and white photograph of her parents, obviously taken in their youth. The words Darren and Emma, nineteen sixty-eight were written on the back.
Oh, my God, Billie thought. Were they in trouble? Were they part of the witness protection program? Why did they change their name? And why does the name change coincide with my birth date?
Billie sat there for several long moments trying to absorb the meaning of the ruse that was her life. In a few seconds, all the security she had known as a child dissolved into a sea of uncertainty. Who was she? Who were they? And why did they keep this secret from her?
Billie suddenly felt lost and vulnerable. She looked down at the picture of a smiling Darren and Emma Walton and stared at it until the images blurred through burning eyes.
What does this all mean? she asked herself over and over as she sat dumbfounded for several minutes.
Finally, emotionally drained, she slipped the Walton photograph into her pocket then piled the remaining paperwork back into the box and replaced the lid. She hefted the box into her arms and carried it with her as she exited the room. The old priest was standing just outside the door, waiting for her.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked.
Billie stared the old man down. "Tell me what you know, old man," she insisted. "Specifically, why did they change their names?"
The priest held her stare as he responded in a low, warning voice. "Leave them in peace, Billie. Remember them as they were, God rest their souls. Just know they did what they felt they had to in order to keep you safe. They loved you more than life itself, and they took dangerous chances to give you the life they felt you deserved. They put their necks on the line, and this is how you repay them. Did they know about your heathen lifestyle?"
"If they loved me like you said they did, I would hope it wouldn't have mattered to them," Billie said.
"You have brought shame upon their names. May their souls rest in peace… and may yours burn in eternal hell."
Billie had all she could do to resist strangling him on the spot. Instead, she turned and left the rectory without another word, taking the box with her.
* * *
"Hi Heather," Cat said as she approached the records clerk in the hospital archives.
"Hey Cat!" Heather exclaimed. "How's the family?"
"Everyone is fine. Thanks for asking. Hey, I need a favor. I need to see the maternity records for an Eleanor D. Waterman. She gave birth to a baby girl on March thirtieth, nineteen eighty. They lived in this area at the time of the birth, so I assume she came here. Can you help me out?" Cat asked.
"Cat, I really shouldn't do this," Heather said. "You know it’s against hospital policy to allow access to private records. Could I ask why you need to know?"
"Eleanor Waterman was Billie's mother. Billie and I are doing a genealogy on our families, and we are hitting a dead end with her parents. I was hoping that her maternity records would name some relative other than her husband, in the event of an emergency," Cat explained.
"Well,” Heather said. “That's a different story. Since she’s Billie’s mom she’s family, so I guess it’ll be okay," Heather said as she sorted the hospital archive file by last name and then narrowed the search by using the date range between March first to April thirtieth, nineteen eighty.
"Let's see," she said as she scrolled through the list of names beginning with W. A few moments later, she looked up at Cat. "There's no entry here under that name and date, Cat."
Cat looked perplexed. "Are you sure?”
“Positive. No babies born to anyone whose name begins with W during that date range. See for yourself,” Heather turned the computer screen toward Cat.
“Humph, Billie grew up in town, so I assumed she was born here,” Cat mused while she stared at the screen. “Can you tap into the state archive files?" she asked hopefully. "Maybe she went to another hospital."
"Sure." Heather called up the state archives web site and once more began her search. Again, she came up empty. "Cat, are you sure she was born in this state?"
"I'm pretty sure she was. Maybe if you search—"
"I'm way ahead of you," Heather interrupted as she accessed the national birth records web site. Cat grinned as she waited for the search results.
"Okay, here we go," she said. "Waterman, Helen, son. Waterman, Julie, daughter. Waterman, Lisa, son. Waterman, Mary, son." She looked up at Cat apologetically. "Sorry, Cat. I'm afraid that's it. No entry under the name Eleanor Waterman.”
“That’s odd,” Cat commented, a frown marring her forehead. “I wonder what that means?”
“Well, if it's not listed in the national registry, she either didn't register the birth, had the baby out of the country, changed her name, or, she's not the birth mother," Heather said.
Her last comment hit Cat like a ton of bricks. "What did you say?" Cat asked.
"I said, she either didn't register the birth, had the baby out of the country, changed her name, or, she's not the birth mother."
Cat stood there, eyes sightless as she stared at the computer screen, trying to digest what Heather was saying.
"Cat, are you all right?" Heather asked as she snapped her fingers in front of Cat's face.
"W…what? Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I was preoccupied there for a moment." She smiled at Heather. "Thanks for the help, Heather. I really appreciate it."
"Any time, Cat. I'll see you later," Heather said as Cat turned and walked away, deep in thought.
* * *
"Okay, let's see, W...a...t...e...r...m...a...n," Art recited out loud as he typed the name into his computer using just his index fingers. "Damn, I'll never get the hang of typing," he grumbled. He pressed the enter button and sat back to wait for the results, tapping his fingers on the desktop while the search engine churned through the list of Social Security numbers. Finally, the screen filled with names and numbers. He scrolled through the list and located two Eleanors and seven Daniels. Using their birth dates, he finally narrowed the list to one of each. "Bingo!" he said out loud.
The next step was to request benefits information on each of them and send it to the printer. He logged off the computer and walked down the hall to the printer room to pick up his reports. He arrived just as the second report was rolling out of the printer. He started reading as he walked back toward his office.
Right in the middle of the hallway, he stopped short and stared at the papers. "What the hell is this?" he said under his breath. He quickly thumbed through the second report until he found the page he was looking for.
"Well, I'll be," he commented as he picked up his pace toward his office. Once there, he logged back onto his computer and tapped into the company's personnel files. Moments later, he had found what he was looking for.
"Charland, Billie. Born March thirtieth, nineteen eighty," he read aloud.
He looked back at the social security reports he printed on the Watermans and at the top of both reports, he read the same information.
Social Security number, date of issue, March thirtieth, nineteen eighty.
Chapter 7
Billie was in a daze. A multitude of questions ran through her mind as she walked across the rectory parking lot toward her car. She imagined various scenarios that might explain her parents' identity change, including the possibility they were fugitives, that they were somehow in trouble with the law, and that they were being protected and had relocated with the assistance of the government. What didn't make sense with those scenarios is that according to the paperwork she found in the box, they didn't relocate after the name change. In fact, it was apparent that they lived in the same community for forty years before the name change, and continued to live in the same community for several years afterward. They obviously weren't trying to hide, at least not physically.
So why did they change their name? What were they hiding? Who were they hiding from? What was it that priest said… they took dangerous chances to give you the life they felt you deserved. What did he mean by that?
Such were the questions that ran through Billie's mind as she climbed into her car. She sat behind the wheel and rested her head against the back of the seat with her eyes closed for a long time. Finally, in no mood to return to work, she headed home, hoping she’d have some time alone to sort things out before Cat arrived home.
She pulled into the driveway, turned off the ignition and gently rested her forehead against the steering wheel in an attempt to clear her mind before going into the house. Intense feelings of disillusionment and betrayal weighed her down as she struggled to drag herself across the driveway and onto the back steps. Before reaching the door however, she noticed Jen running across the lawn while waving to her excitedly.
"Billie, wait up," she yelled.
Billie stopped and waited for her to approach.
"What is it, Jen?" Billie asked.
"Look, I've only got a minute. The school bus will be dropping the kids off soon and I need to be home when they get there, so I'll make this fast," Jen began. "I brought your key to the locksmith today and he seems to think it belongs to a safe deposit box, but he wouldn't give me any clues as to which bank it might be in," Jen explained.
Billie frowned. "You mean, he can tell just by looking at the key?" she asked.
"He seems to think he can," answered Jen. "Anyhow, he wouldn't tell me which bank because I don't own the key. He said the owner, a.k.a., you, will have to make the request in person."
"He said that, did he," Billie said. "Well, I guess I'll just have to pay him a visit tomorrow. Do you have the key on you?"
"Yeah, here," Jen replied as she dug deep into her pocket and handed it to Billie. "Do you want me to go with you?" she asked.
"Sure, if you want to," Billie answered. "I just may need you to stop me from tearing his head off; you know, a little pre-planned damage control, so to speak," she explained.
"Okay, you've got it, Big Guy. Well, gotta go. The bus will be here in a minute. Maybe I'll see you and Cat later tonight. If not, then I'll meet you at the locksmith's at say, noon tomorrow. Okay?"
Billie watched her friend leave then went into the house. She sat down in the overstuffed chair in the living room and closed her eyes.
What did that priest mean when he said he warned my parents about me? Why would they regret having me? I was never a problem child! What bothers me the most is the name change. It implies they're hiding something. If this key really goes to a safe deposit box, maybe I'll find some answers there. I feel like my whole life has been a lie. Who am I? Who are they? she wondered to herself until she fell asleep.
* * *
As usual, Cat collected the kids from daycare on her way home. She was surprised to see Billie's car there when she pulled into the driveway. It was unusual for Billie to make it home before her. I wonder if she's ill? Cat thought and she approached the house, trepidation settling in the pit of her stomach.
"Mama, can I go play with Missy?" Skylar asked before Cat even reached the bottom porch step.
"Sure, honey. Seth, can you walk your sister across the street for me?" she asked her son.
"Sure, Ma. Come on, Squirt," he said to his sister affectionately, taking her hand. Half way down the driveway, he turned back to Cat and asked, "Ma, is it all right if I go to Stevie's after I bring Sky to Missy's?"
"Okay, sure. Just be home by five to get cleaned up for dinner, okay? Oh, and stop to pick Sky up on the way back, if you would," she replied.
