TITLE    : My Wife had a Baby
STORYID  : my-wife-had-a-baby
SUMMARY  : But who was the father.
AUTHOR   : Ephesus14@lit
DATE     : 2020-03-31
CATEGORY : loving-wives
FLAGS    : h
TAGS     : |cheating wives|dna results|loving wives|


<i>There is very little sex in this story.



April in Cleveland can be pretty nice.



Thank you Blackrandl1958. You improve everything you touch.</i>



*****



My wife had a baby ... but who was the father?



Some TDY (Temporary Duty) assignments are fun and exciting. This one was not. It was 30 days of almost 24/7 hard-ass work.



Every year the US Army is involved in a "Rapid Response Deployment" exercise. Several units from throughout the whole Army are selected to participate and are airlifted, with all of their equipment, to Germany, where they work alongside their NATO Counterparts in a month-long training exercise.



My name is Fred Sadler. I was a Captain in the US Army at the time, and worked in Operations, stationed at Fort Hood, Texas. This particular TDY came at the worst possible time for me to be anywhere other than home with my wife, because she was pregnant and the baby was due to be born sometime during my TDY. I tried to get out of the trip, but the Army was having none of that.



Lydia and I had been married almost six years. Most of them were good years. The bad parts came when I had to go TDY and she stayed home. 



Lydia and I were not lifelong sweethearts or friends. We met at DMV one day when I was getting my car registered. She was there getting her license replaced. Her purse had been stolen and, of course, her license was in it.



We were sitting next to each other waiting for our numbers to be called, so we started chatting. One thing led to another and pretty soon we exchanged phone numbers. A week later, we had our first date, and a month after that we spent our first night together.



Lydia was not a raving beauty, but she had classic good looks that made my insides turn to mush. She could just look at me and my heart melted. Her body was also classic. Most men ogle any woman with a great body, and I watched as men walked into parked cars, doors, walls and other people when she walked by. At first, I felt pride as I watched them watching her, but as time went by it got old. I began to regard them as leeches, thinking of her only a sex object. 



I came to realize that it was something I was going to have to deal with for the rest of my life.



Lydia, on the other hand, took it all in stride. "Let them look, sweetie," she said. It's no skin off our noses. As the old saying goes, 'you can look, but you better not touch'."



'You bet your sweet ass they better not touch,' I thought every time she said it.



She worked very hard to keep her body looking the way it did. I helped her. We spent three evenings a week at the gym, we ran in the park, we hiked; we even watched our diet. I actually forgot the last time I had a meal which included red meat.



Watching her get dressed, or better yet, undressed, was always thrilling for me. Each time she just nonchalantly tossed off an article of clothing revealing part of her bare skin, my heart skipped a beat, and I never tired of it.



When the TDY started, I heard, "I give you my personal guarantee that I will do everything in my power to get you home before the baby is born," from my CO (Commanding Officer). And he did. He had arranged that I would be on the first plane back to the States when the exercise was over.



I had packed my gear and was on my way to the plane. I had called Lydia, who told me she thought she would be going to the hospital in the next couple of days. 



"The timing should be perfect, then, because I'm on my way home," I told her. We ended the call with "I love you."



It was almost midnight and a deer ran onto the road in front of us. My driver swerved to avoid it and the next thing I knew I woke up in a military hospital in Frankfurt. I had a broken right arm, right leg, three broken ribs on my tight side, and my right lung had collapsed. I was so drugged up that I didn't know who or where I was.



When I started to become a bit more lucid, I began asking questions. "How long have I been here?" I asked my nurse.



"Five days."



"Is my wife here?" 



"No, sir."



"Where is she?"



"She hasn't been here, sir, but your CO notified her right after you first arrived so she knows what happened."



"Where's my phone?"



She found it among my personal belongings and I called Lydia. 



"Are you okay?" were her first words.



"Never mind me. How are you and the baby?"



She started crying. "We lost the baby, Fred. I'm so sorry."



I was too stunned to speak. Finally, I asked. "Are you okay?"



"I think so. I'm home, but they don't want me to travel, otherwise I would be with you."



"What happened?" I asked.



"Nobody knows for sure. Everything seemed to be fine until I heard one of the nurses say 'uh-oh' then everybody got excited. I still don't really understand it, but they tried to explain that it was something about the umbilical cord."



"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked. 



There was a long silence while we both struggled with our thoughts and emotions. 



"Physically, I'm fine, but emotionally, I'm a wreck. When are you coming home?"



"I don't know. They haven't given me any idea."



"Do you want me to try to come over?"



"No. No. Stay there and take care of yourself."



Two weeks later, they flew me home in a Medevac plane. Lydia met me and went with me to the Fort Hood hospital. She was still emotionally a wreck, but our being together seemed to help both of us. I asked her if she had named the child.



"I did. I named her Hope." At that, we both cried.



I was in hospital for four more weeks before the casts were removed and I was released for limited duty. Limited duty generally meant that you didn't have to go to "the field" and train.



Time went by and things were going smoothly both in our marriage and my career. Two years after we lost our baby, we were reassigned to Heidelberg, Germany. We enjoyed three years there and travelled all over Europe. While there, I was promoted to Major. When our three years were up, we were transferred to Fort Lewis, WA. Being a Major, we were assigned Field grade Officer Quarters. They were much better than Company Grade Quarters and they had garages, not just carports. (Company Grade meant Second Lieutenant, First Lieutenant, and Captain. Field Grade were all Major and above.)



When we were moving into quarters at Lewis, all of the stuff we had taken to Germany with us had been shipped back. We were in the process of unpacking those boxes, plus the ones we had stored and not taken with us. There were boxes stacked in every room. 



Lydia had gone to the Officers club to attend a "Newcomers" meeting. There, she could meet other wives and start developing new friendships.



While she was gone, I stayed in our quarters working on unpacking and arranging things. I used the box cutter to open one of the many boxes and started taking stuff out of it. About halfway down, the was a small wooden box I hadn't remembered seeing before. I put it on a stack of boxes and opened it. My life changed forever.



It contained a small stack of envelopes with a pink ribbon around it. I slid the ribbon off and picked up the top envelope. It was unsealed, so I opened it. Inside was an official document with the title 'Certificate of Live Birth' printed across the top. As I looked at the document, my mind started to fog up. It said that a 7lb 6oz baby girl who was 19 inches long was born alive and it gave the date. It was the same date that Lydia told me our child was stillborn. The given name of the child was Hope. It went on to say that the mother's name was Lydia Jane Sadler nee Johnston. Where it called for the father's name the entry "Unknown" had been entered. At the bottom of the certificate, there were two very small inked footprints.



I staggered backward and literally fell onto the sofa and stayed there for a long time looking at the document. I left it on the sofa, stood, and went to the stack of envelopes. I picked up the next envelope. It, too, was unsealed. I took out the multi-page document it contained. It was an adoption certification. I read it several times. The gist of it was that the female child named Hope, born to Lydia Sadler, was given for adoption and all parental rights were forfeit. It went on to say that, "in that the identity of the birth father is unknown, his permission was neither considered nor necessary."



It further said that the name and location of the adopted family was to remain confidential and absolutely no contact between the adopted family and Mrs. Sadler was permitted. 



I went through the rest of the stack and it was mostly letters from me.



I was in total shock. This had to be the biggest lie in the history of lies. My mind wouldn't stop coming up with questions. This was not something you did overnight; it took planning... or so I thought. If she thought I was going to be home for the birth, had she already planned the adoption? Father "Unknown?" If I wasn't the father who was? Apparently, even she didn't know. We had been married six years. How many men had she slept with during that time? Did she know?



I felt sick to my stomach.



I managed to regain enough composure to put everything back where it was. I even re-taped the box everything was in. It was while I was re-taping the box that I saw "Lydia's papers and childhood memories" written in Magic Marker on four sides. Had I seen that, I would most definitely not have opened it. She must have known that. Even in a marriage, we need some private thoughts and space. I moved some other boxes and put that box among them trying to make it look like I hadn't seen it. 



I went outside to sit on the rear deck and breathe some fresh air because I was suffocating inside. 



What do I do now? How do I even bring it up? I was lost and at a loss. My mind was an absolute blank on where to go and how to get there. I needed advice. If I went to my parents, they would explode and try to kill Lydia. I was their only child, therefore their only hope... Hope... for a grandchild. 



I could go to her parents, I supposed, but that prospect didn't fill me with confidence. We had no close friends. Moving around so much and meeting so many different people in the military was hard on both families and friendships.



I was still there when she came home. She found me outside.



"Hi, sweetie." She kissed me on my cheek. "How much did you get done?"



"Enough." I said rather curtly. I was rarely short or curt when speaking to her, so I could feel her looking down at me. She stayed there for a few more minutes before going inside.



It was probably another hour before I went in. The box with "Lydia's papers and childhood memories" was gone.



"We've been invited to a 'Welcome Wagon' get together on Saturday."



"Okay."



"The Simpson's from Heidelberg are here. Do you remember them?"



"Not really."



He was a Major in G-2 and I played Bridge with her. Jim and Fran are their names."



"Oh, yeah, I remember."



She came over to me. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"



'Is something wrong?' I thought. 'You bet your ass something's wrong and I intend to find out what it is.' "No, I'm just a little off today, I suppose."



"Okay. What would you like for dinner? Or would you prefer going to the "O" (Officers) Club.



"I'm not hungry. I think I'll lie down." I did, fully clothed on our bed. That was a cardinal sin in my house while I was growing up. It was against everything my mother held holy. You never laid on the bed with street clothes on. Never. I just barely remembered to take my boots off.



Sometime before she joined me, I fell asleep. It had to be late, because I was still wide awake at one when I looked at the clock.



I slept until nine, another thing I rarely did. I took a shower and went downstairs. As per our regular routine, she had coffee ready.



"Breakfast?" she asked.



"No thank you. Just coffee."



Another rarity. I usually had a full breakfast.



She sat across from me. "Okay. Something's wrong. Tell me and maybe I can help."



"I just have a lot to think about," I said as I stood, took my coffee to the sink, poured it out and headed for the garage.



"You know I'm here when you need me," she said as I left.



I drove over to the golf course, parked my car, and went to the 19th hole, which was the bar, snack bar, and restaurant at the end of the golf course. I ordered two eggs over medium and corned beef hash. I even had a rare cup of coffee that wasn't decaf. It used to be my favorite breakfast until Lydia changed my eating habits. Beef in any form or by any name, was an absolute no-no with her.



I managed to eat most of it and sat on the deck as the golfers finished the 18th hole and came in. 



It was mid-afternoon when I went home. She had made a lot of progress in emptying boxes and making the place a home. I looked around and wondered what it would be like with a five-year-old daughter running around. I barely made it to the bathroom before losing my eggs and hash.



I still had my head in the commode when I felt her hand on my back. All of a sudden, I hated her. "Get away from me," I almost yelled before putting my head back and losing more breakfast. 



I hadn't thrown-up in years. Not since getting drunk at my high school senior prom.



When I was finished, I went upstairs, rinsed my mouth out, and brushed my teeth. She was sitting in the living room with a tissue in her hand. It appeared she had been crying. She watched as I walked past her and headed for the garage again. I was backing my car out when she appeared in my rear-view mirror.



"I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong," she said as I continued backing. She saw I wasn't going to stop and she moved.



I drove over to my unit and went to my office. No one was there except the duty officer. I sat at my desk and tried to work, but my heart wasn't in it. 



It was midnight when I went home. She was in bed reading. I undressed and took a shower. "I'm sleeping downstairs," I announced as I walked out and closed the door. 



I had just turned on the TV and settled on the sofa, when she came in, picked up the remote, turned the TV off and glared at me. "That's enough bullshit. Tell me what's wrong so I can either help you or I'm leaving. Which is it? I've done nothing wrong, so I will not tolerate you yelling at me when I try to help or having to jump out of your way when you try to run me down."



I reached over, took the remote out of her hand and turned the TV back on. "Have a nice trip wherever you go," I said.



She was gone in less than an hour. Never had we spoken to each other like that, and never had she threatened to leave, much less actually do it.



I got up and started searching for the box. I found it in the basement under some other boxes. I opened it, found the small wooden box, took out the birth certificate and adoption papers, made copies of them and returned everything to its place. Since she was gone, I slept in our bed.



I talked to my CO on Monday morning and told him my story. I even showed him the documents. He was as dumbfounded as I was. I had only been in his command for less than a month, so I hadn't really gotten settled in yet. He was probably worried that he had a loser on his hands.



"What do you plan to do?" he asked me.



"I'm not sure."



"Did she say where she was going when she left?"



"No, sir. But she didn't take all of her stuff; especially the box." There was a pause before I spoke again. "I was thinking of trying to locate my daughter, if she is my daughter, and go from there."



"That would be almost impossible, you know. Confidentiality is very important to both sides in adoption cases," he said.



"I understand, but I have to do something and I have to start somewhere and I don't trust her to tell me the truth, anymore." Then I literally jumped up. "Oh, my God, I have an idea. May I have the day off?"



"Certainly." I saluted and ran out of his office and the building to the parking lot, where I jumped in my car and went home. I opened the box, took out the wooden box and dumped the contents on the floor. There it was. A pacifier. Hope must have used it before being taken away. I put the box back together. 



I went online trying to find a DNA Laboratory somewhere in the area. There was one in downtown Seattle. I went to our bathroom, grabbed the toothbrush she had been using, replaced it with a new one put the used one in an envelope and hauled ass down there with the pacifier. 



I gave the technician, her name was Margie, the pacifier and she looked at it. "It has been a long time so there might not be any DNA left on it, but we can try." She looked at the hair and said there would be no problem with that. Then she asked me to spit in a bottle. "We'll call you in about three weeks," she said.



I went back to Fort Lewis and home.



I didn't hear from Lydia for another day.



"Hello," I said.



"Are you any better?"



"Better than what?"



"Better than the asshole you were a couple of days ago."



"Nope. I'm the same old asshole."



"Then it still isn't safe for me to come home."



"No, it isn't. Try again in three weeks." 



"Why three weeks?"



"By then I should know if I'm going to kill you or just divorce you." I ended the call. The phone rang immediately and I ignored it.



The next day when I got home, Lydia was there. She met my car as I drove up the drive. She was livid.



"What do you mean you're either going to kill me or divorce me?"



"Exactly what I said."



"I think I deserve an explanation," she said.



"So do I."



"About what?" she asked.



We were still in the driveway. We weren't quite yelling, but we certainly weren't acting like an Army Officer and his wife are expected to act.



"Are you telling me that there is nothing that you need to explain?" I asked.



"That's exactly what I'm saying."



"Then there is no HOPE for us." I said placing as much emphasis on the word HOPE as I could. 



"What do you mean there's no hope for us? What have I done?" Then it hit her. "Oh, my God. No. Please. No." 



"I'll be back in an hour and you better not be here. I'll leave for work in the morning at 6:30. I'll be back at five. All of your stuff better be out of this house by then." I left.



Exactly an hour later, I was back and she was gone. So was the box and some of her clothes.



She tried to call that evening, but after the first time, I blocked her number. It was peaceful the rest of the night. 



I was in my car and opening the garage door at exactly 6:30 the next morning. In my rearview mirror stood Lydia again. I backed slowly. Running her over was tempting but I resisted.



"Can't we at least talk?" she said as I continued to back. "Please?" Her hands were on the trunk lid and she was moving backward with the car. I said nothing. There was a moving van parked on the street with three men sitting in the cab. I was half way down the drive and still moving. It was 'Déjà vu' all over again because we had done this same dance just a few days earlier.



I saw the men get out of the truck, run over to her and pull her from behind my car. I didn't know if I was happy or sad that they did it.



The house was almost empty when I got home that evening. She had picked out most of the furniture, so she took it. She did leave my favorite chair and the guest bedroom suite. She also left the "everyday" dishes and some pots and pans. She took the good silver and china; and other shit I didn't care about. 



The next morning, I called my office and told them I would be late. Then I called Post Housing and made arrangements to have some government furniture brought to my quarters temporarily. I also called the credit union, our stockbroker, our insurance company and anybody else that I could think of and did those mundane "household" things normally associated with divorce. Then I made an appointment with JAG (Judge Advocate General, the Army lawyers.) I knew they were not allowed to represent me in civilian court, but they could advise me.

<hr pg="2" />On my way to my office, I stopped by the Provost Marshal's Office (Military Police and Post Security). I gave them Lydia's license plate number and description of her car. I asked if there was any way she could be refused entry onto the installation.



"Not as long as she is your dependent and entitled to use the facilities," I was told.



"Well, as of an hour ago, her car didn't have insurance. Would that be enough to keep her out?"



"It would keep her car off the installation, but she would be allowed, and once she has valid insurance, we couldn't keep her car out."



"Thank you." I went to JAG. They just confirmed what I suspected. She would get half. We lived in Government housing so we owned no house, but we did have enough in stocks to buy one if we wanted to. Both of our cars were paid for. We had bought them in Germany for a lot less than we would have paid in the States for the same cars. 



I went to my office. My CO chatted with me for some time and told me to take whatever reasonable time I needed to "get straightened out" and keep him informed of my progress or lack thereof.



My life went on for another couple of weeks. I went to work, did my job, mowed my lawn, and washed and waxed my car. 



Then one morning the call came. "Hello," I answered.



"Is this Major Fred Sadler?"



"It is."



"Major Sadler, this is Margie from the DNA testing center. Several weeks ago you dropped off some samples for us to test for you."



"Yes, I did."



"Well, the results are back and you are welcome to come in and see them."



"Can't you just tell me now?"



"No sir, I can't. We can either mail them to the address you gave us or show them to you in person. We have no way of verifying over the phone that you are who you say you are. We have to see positive identification. We can mail the results because, as you recall, we asked for identification when you were here and we were able to verify your address."



"I'll be there in as soon as I can." 



I walked in their door, introduced myself and asked for Margie. She came out and we shook hands. She asked to see my ID.



"Come with me please," she said.



I followed her to a little room. She asked me to wait. She left and returned just a couple of minutes later. She handed me the pacifier, then spoke. 



"Sample 'A' is yours. Sample 'B' is from the hair you gave us. And sample 'C' is from the pacifier. We were able to determine that samples B and C are positively related. Sample A is not related to either B or C."



"Thank you," I said as I took the pacifier, put it in my pocket, picked up the paperwork and left. I sat in my car. At least I didn't have a daughter calling some other man Daddy; but someone else did. 



JAG was not permitted to recommend specific law firms or attorneys, but the JAG Officer I had talked with was able to provide me with a list of "approved" attorney's and firms. 



The next day I started calling them. I made six appointments. At my third appointment, I found my man. He was a retired JAG Officer and hated cheating spouses, either the wife or the husband. I spent over an hour telling him my story.



"Forty-five years of practicing law and this is absolutely the most diabolically wanton case of selfishness I have ever seen. She must have ice-water in her veins where blood should be. It's too bad that the courts here side with the wife virtually all the time regardless of the circumstances surrounding the divorce. I can almost guarantee they will side with your wife in this case as well. It's like they feel compelled to screw the husband, regardless of how innocent he is."



It was late in the day when I got home. There was a letter in the mailbox. It was from Lydia:



Fred,



The three weeks are up.



Lydia



Short and to the point. The return address was the address of her parents in Mechanicsburg, PA. I called her.



"Hello, Fred," she said.



"I'm not talking about this over the phone, and I'm certainly not flying to Pennsylvania, so it looks like you have to come here."



"If you mean Seattle, I'm already here. I mailed the letter last week when I was back there."



"I will be at the house at 6:30. Come then," I told her.



She hung up.



I made no special arrangements; no drinks, cheese, crackers, nothing. This was to be a business meeting. I did put the DNA Documents and my copies of the Birth Certificate and Adoption papers on the Government provided coffee table.



She pulled into the driveway at 6:20, but waited until exactly 6:30 to ring the bell. I took my time answering. I opened the door and motioned her in, then indicated where she should sit. I would be sitting on the sofa. She would be sitting in an uncomfortable straight-backed chair opposite me. 



I reached in my pocket, took out the pacifier, and handed it to her. She grabbed for it and clutched it to her chest. 



"Thank you," she said, as if I had given her a million dollars.



Then I pushed a copy of the DNA results over to her. "You already know that I am not the father, but this will confirm it."



She reached for the results and picked them up with her left hand. The pacifier stayed clutched in her right. "I take it you are "Sample A"?" she asked.



"I am."



Then I pushed the other papers over to her saying nothing. She leaned forward, read the heading on the top sheet and tears formed in her eyes. She put the DNA results down and picked up the Application for Dissolution of Marriage. She started to read it, but the tears were flowing freely now and falling on the form, so she put it down. She searched her pockets for a tissue but found none. "May I have a tissue?" she asked. 



"I don't have any." Which was a lie because there was a box on the end table by the sofa where I was sitting. She saw them and just glared at me. I didn't move.



"You aren't making it easy for me, are you?" she asked.



"You cheated," I said.



She nodded.



"How many times?" I asked.



"Does it matter?" 



"No. I just want to know."



"One weekend."



"Different men?"



"Just one."



"Who is he?"



"Again, does it matter?"



"Again, I just want to know. I think I deserve that."



"I'm not going to tell you." 



"Do I know him?"



"I'm not going to tell you.'



"So you'd rather protect him than try to save your marriage?"



She picked up the divorce application. "Our marriage is over anyway. Why destroy his?"



"Okay, but you are going to tell me why you lied about your daughter being stillborn." It was a statement, not a question.



"Yes. I owe you that." She stood and reached for the tissue box and put it in front of her. She took one and dried her still wet eyes. She still clutched the pacifier. "When I found out I was pregnant, I wasn't sure if it was yours or his. I thought about aborting it, but couldn't. As time went on, I was able to rationalize in my mind that you wouldn't know for sure whether it was yours or not. When we found out it was going to be a girl, I was even more convinced that you wouldn't know, because daddy's and daughters have a special connection and I was sure that you and she would be like that.



"As it got closer to her being born, I began to get nervous. Maybe you would know if she wasn't yours. Then you went on that TDY trip and my nerves settled down a bit. I was happy that you might not be there when she was born. Then you told me you were on your way to fly home and I got nervous again.



"My emotions were on a roller coaster. Maybe you would know, maybe you wouldn't. Maybe you would be there when she was born, maybe you wouldn't. I was a nervous wreck.



"Then she was there. Alive and perfect. They lay her on my chest and I looked at her and I was in love. The love only a mother can have for her child. She was beautiful and she had blonde hair and blue eyes. Blonde hair and blue eyes... just like her father. You have brown hair and brown eyes. Nobody in either of our families has blonde hair and blue eyes. I knew she wasn't yours.



"She was my daughter, but you were my husband. I loved you both, but I knew I had to choose between the two of you. I chose you. The hospital staff assisted me when I told them I wanted to give her up for adoption. Within 24 hours, the paperwork was in my hands. They asked who the father was and I told them I didn't know. They told me that would make it easier because if I knew they would have to get his permission. I had just breast fed her and was holding her. She was sucking on this pacifier when they brought the papers in for my signature." At this point she started crying again. "They took her from me so I could sign. I signed and reached to take her back.



The nurse said, "You can't have her. She isn't yours anymore". I reached for her, anyway, and was only able to grab the pacifier before they left with her. I never saw her again. Two pictures that I was able to get with my phone, this pacifier, and her birth certificate are all I have of her."



She was bawling now. "God forgive me, but I want my daughter back."



I sat watching her cry for a long time before getting her a glass of water.



"Thank you," she said.



I sat back down. It took a long time for her to compose herself.



"I knew I would have to tell you something, so I made up the lie about her being stillborn and having her remains cremated. When you got home, I couldn't believe you didn't ask to see birth certificate or death certificate or anything. I still can't believe it."



"I trusted you," I said. "I had no reason not to. Besides, it was so traumatic I saw no reason to add to our misery by looking at those pieces of paper."



She continued. "As time went on, you and I got back to normal and I was almost happy, but part of me was missing. It still is, and it gets worse every year on her birthday. I have always found private time to take out her Birth Certificate and touch her little footprints and I hold the pacifier. There were times when I wanted to put it in my mouth to feel nearer to her, but there was just a bit of my dried breast milk on it and I wanted to save it, so I didn't." At this point, she wanted to show it to me but it was gone. Scraped off by the DNA lab I suppose. "Oh, my God. It's gone." She wailed then she looked at me. "It's gone. Her milk is gone. You bastard. You took her milk." She sunk to her knees and literally curled up in a little ball on the floor. She wouldn't stop wailing.



I picked her up and lay her on the sofa. I couldn't let her leave in her condition so I covered her with a blanket and went to my bedroom, but not to bed. She stayed there for several hours. At midnight, I heard the toilet flush. I went downstairs. She was sitting on the sofa.



"Want some coffee?" I asked.



"Yes, please." She sat at the counter as I brewed her a cup. She took a sip. "I guess I sorta flipped out, huh?"



"Sorta." We sat in silence and drank our coffee.



"More?" I asked.



"Yes, please," she replied.



"Where are you staying?" I asked as I brewed two more cups.



"In a motel."



"You've been there over three weeks?"



"No. Most of the time I was with my parents."



"Do they know the truth?"



"No. I lied to them, too. I told them that you and I are having a rough time and I needed to get away from you for a while. They paid for me to visit them. They think I came back to help work out our difficulties."



"Where is your motel?"



"Just off post. In fact, I should be getting there now." She looked around, walked over to the coffee table, took a pen out of her purse, sat and signed the divorce papers without reading them. "Thank you for listening." She left.



I cleaned the coffee cups then went upstairs to bed. 



It was midmorning on Sunday when I awoke. I spent the rest of the day in thought. 



On Monday, I took the divorce papers to my attorney and he filed them. I went to the Post Housing Office and told them I would be moving out of Quarters and into an apartment off post.



Six months later I was divorced. Neither the court nor I, had heard from Lydia. As a result, she got nothing except her car, her jewelry, and whatever money she had with her, which couldn't have been much. Her copy of the final decree was sent to her parents address in PA.



I found myself thinking a lot about who Lydia had cheated with. She would never tell me who he was or how the affair started. I was pissed not only that she cheated and got pregnant, but that she protected the bastard and wouldn't tell me who he was. The only thing she told me was that it only lasted one weekend.



Thankfully, I got so busy at work that I didn't have time to think of anything else. I also didn't have time for much of a social life, either. There was an officer who worked with me who I became friends with and spent at least one evening a week having dinner with him and his family. My mind's eye saw them as the perfect military family. Husband, wife, two children, two cars, and a beautiful home. They had it all. Of course, being a military family, they had to deal with the periodic moves, taking their children out of one school and putting them in another, as well as all the other difficulties of military life. Civilian families generally grow up in the same area with the same friends for long periods in their lives. There are exceptions to that as well. Families in some industries, like oil, move as much or more than the military. Anyway, Major George and Marian Johnson seemed perfect and I enjoyed my time with them and I enjoyed playing with their children. The son was ten and the daughter eight. I don't know what "typical" children are, but these two seemed pretty solidly grounded, so I assumed they were typical.



One evening after dinner, George and I were talking. The subject of TDY's came up and we discussed their pros and cons. They were necessary, of course, and we knew that, but most TDY's took us away from our families (those of us who had them), and we felt we spent enough time away from them . The subject came up because he had been selected to attend a two-week security seminar at Fort Hood. He was to leave in two weeks.



The next day, I went to our CO.



"Sir, is there any reason I can't go to the seminar instead of Major Johnson?"



"Not really. The general just thought that he had a bit more experience in that area than you, but it would work if you went."



"Good. He and his wife will be celebrating their 12th Anniversary and it would be nice if they could celebrate it together."



"Well, Major Sadler. I didn't know you were the romantic type," he said laughing.



Two weeks later, I found myself back at Fort Hood, which is where Lydia and I lived when her daughter was born. 



Usually, Military Seminars were pretty intense, but this one had a relaxed air about it. We were divided into groups of three for project purposes. It worked out that there six groups of three, and two left over. That was a Major from Alaska, and me. We developed a close friendship almost immediately. It was as if we had known each other all of our lives. His name was Keith Franklin, and as I said, he was stationed at Fort Wainwright, Alaska, the coldest Base in the United States Army, but he loved it there.



He was a computer genius and we got so far ahead of everybody else we had to slow down and wait for them to catch up. 



On Friday of the first week, we were in the "O" Club having lunch. He opened up to me about his personal life. He had cheated on his wife and she divorced him. Now she was living with some civilian and his two children were calling the other man Daddy. Of all the bad things divorce brings, I always thought that would be the most difficult to stomach: your kids calling another man, daddy.



By the end of lunch, I had unloaded my story as well. When I was finished, he had a strange look. 



"And you don't know who the man she had the affair with is?"



"No. she wouldn't tell me."



"And it was here at Hood?"



"Yep."



"Five years ago?"



"Almost six now."



"Blonde hair and blue eyes?"



"That what she said."



"Come with me."



We went to the post personnel center. Everyone who was assigned to Fort Hood had to process through there. We walked right into the office of the personnel director. She saw us coming, stood and came around her desk to hug Keith. She seemed to be about sixty years old with a twinkle in her eye. I liked her and hadn't even spoken to her yet.



"Aunt Lucy. This is Fred Sadler."



"Hello, Fred," she said, shaking my hand. 



"Hello, uh, uh," The name plate on her desk said Mrs. Healy. "Mrs. Healy."



"Call me Aunt Lucy. Everybody does."



"Aunt Lucy," Keith began, "do you remember a blonde-haired blue-eyed officer who might have been here about six years ago?"



She thought about it for a few seconds. "No, but I don't always see everybody who comes through here. They all have to, but that doesn't mean I see them." She thought for a while longer. "Fred Sadler? You were here about then, weren't you? I remember the name."



"Yes, my wife and I were here," I said.



"Keith, give me some time to think about it and maybe ask around. Is it important?"



Keith looked at me and I answered. "Yes, Aunt Lucy. It's important." She took both of our cell numbers. In less than two hours she called Keith. 



"I've been thinking about the man you asked about. I don't remember a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Officer, but I do know a civilian who works in the Post Engineers Office. He's worked there about ten years. He's in charge of new construction now, but he used to be the head of plumbing. His name is Kurt Weber."



Keith told me, and I immediately started planning how to meet him and determine if he was the man and maybe get a bit of revenge. Men who prey on the wives of our military members are the second lowest forms of life on the planet. The lowest, of course, are those who prey on the wives when the service member is deployed overseas. Those bastards deserve the worst imaginable fate anyone can devise.



As I said, Keith could almost read my mind. "Let's take a look at this guy," he said. The first thing he did was call Aunt Lucy. "Is there any legal way we can get Weber's address and phone number?"



"Sure is," she said. "I have a civilian directory in my desk." Thirty seconds later we had both pieces of information.



"I love you, Aunt Lucy," Keith told her. We were in his rental car, and at 3:45 PM we were waiting outside the main office of the Post Engineers Office. We knew him immediately when he walked out of the building. He was a good-looking guy, and I hated him on sight. He made his way to his car and we followed him just to be sure he was going home. He did. We sat within sight of his house for several hours. He never left, but someone, who we assumed to be his wife, was working in the flower beds in their yard while three children, all with blonde hair, played around her.



"You don't have to stay here and do this," I told Keith. 



"Hell, this is fun. I'm sitting here thinking of things we can do to this bastard."



"I have a few ideas, myself." We compared notes.



The next morning, I was sitting down the street from Weber's house in my own rental car. I hoped he was a golfer, or DIY-er, so he may be going to the local hardware or lumber store. I had been there almost two hours when I watched as his car came out of the garage and start down the street. 'Thank God,' I thought. I didn't want to sit here all day just to see if he went anyplace, but I was willing to do that if that's what it took. I followed him to Home Depot. We parked and I followed him into the store. He was obviously known there because he spoke to several of the employees. There was a place right inside the door where there was a pot of coffee. I knew enough about Home Depot to know that their regular contractor customers were welcome to help themselves to it.



Weber helped himself and stood drinking it while he chatted with one of the clerks behind the counter. I learned one thing about Mr. Weber while watching him. Not only did he fuck my wife and make her pregnant, he chewed gum with his mouth open. Other than spitting on the sidewalk, I couldn't think of anything more disgusting.

<hr pg="3" />The clerk Weber was chatting with had to go help a customer, so Weber took the last drink of his coffee, spit his gum into his paper cup and walked away, unwrapping another piece of gum. I walked over to the trash can, looked in and saw, right on top, a paper coffee cup with a wad of chewing gum in it. I looked around, didn't see anybody watching, so took the cup. 



I got in my car and called Keith. I told him what I had. He laughed and said for me to hurry back, that by the time I got there he might have something bigger.



When I got there, he was literally jumping up and down and waving some papers. "You won't believe this," he said. "You won't fucking believe this." He grabbed me by the arm. "Look at this. No, you better sit down." I did. He plopped down beside me and put the papers in front of me. "Now look."



It was several names and an address. "So?" I asked.



"So? So? This is Hope's name, address, and the name of her family. Her name is Sarah now. Sarah Randolph. I broke into the fucking files of the fucking adoption agency. Those files are better encrypted than the nuclear launch codes the fucking President of the fucking United States carries around." Then he stopped and settled down. "Well, I didn't personally break into their files, my brother did, but it's the same thing."



I started laughing. "That's great, Keith, but what exactly am I going to do with it?"



"I have no idea, but you have them. Maybe we can blackmail someone?"



"Oh, that's great. I can see the headlines now. 'Two Army Officers attempt to blackmail a six-year-old adopted child.' That's a good one."



He tossed the papers on the coffee table and leaned back. "Yeah. I see your point." He got a bit excited again. "But we cracked their security. That's something."



"Yeah, that's something," I said laughing.



I took the papers and the coffee cup back to my BOQ (Bachelor Officers Quarters) and lay them on the table. The next day was Sunday.



I have no idea why I did it, but I looked at the address where Hope lived, and early in the morning, I drove out there. Corsicana was almost two hundred miles away. The house was a typical suburban house. I had been sitting down the street for an hour or so, watching American suburbia on a typical Sunday: the noise of several lawnmowers, the yelling of kids and the chatting of neighbors. There was no activity from Hope's house until almost noon. A car pulled into the driveway. There were three people in the car. A man was driving, a woman was in the front passenger seat and a child was in the right rear seat. The woman got out, closed her door and reached for the right rear door. I was ready with my phone. The woman lifted the child out of her car seat and put her on the ground. Then knelt down to straighten the child's dress. That gave me plenty of time to snap a few pictures. 



I heard a noise beside my car and a woman and child were walking by. "Sarah," the child squealed, and she started running toward Hope, who ran to meet her. They were just a few feet from my car and I snapped a few more quick pictures. I started the car and drove away before either of the two women became curious about the strange car and man parked on their street. 



I drove a short distance away and stopped to look at the pictures. There were four that were absolutely perfect. I could even see her blue eyes. I left and drove back to Fort Hood.



Keith and I finished our class the next week with ease. We graduated on Friday, then had dinner and a few drinks together. On Saturday morning, we made our way to the airport and flew home. Keith to Alaska and me to Seattle. 



The following Monday was a training holiday, so I had the day off. I took the DNA reports I had done on Lydia and Hope to Margie at the DNA Testing Center. She didn't remember me until I reminded her about the pacifier. I gave her Lydia's and Hope's DNA results back and handed her the coffee cup with the gum in it. "See you in three weeks," I said as I left.



Actually, it only took two. She gave me the results over the phone this time. "This is, without a doubt a family unit," she said. "Mother, Father, and child." She would mail me the official results.



Okay. I had all the information I needed, but needed for what? What was I going to do with it? All it did was confirm that Weber was, in fact, the guy Lydia cheated with.



It took me a week to make my first move. I went to Walmart and bought paper and envelopes. I also made copies of two of Hope's pictures and the DNA Reports belonging to Weber, Lydia and Hope. On the DNA Reports, I cut off anything that could identify where the report came from. I put it all together in an envelope. I made sure I was wearing gloves from the time I opened the paper and envelopes, made copies of the photos and DNA Reports. I even used self-sticking stamps and water, not saliva, to seal the envelope. I made every effort to ensure that it wasn't traced back to me. I addressed it to Mrs. Kurt Weber at their home address. I also included Lydia's name and the address of her parents, because I had no idea where she was. Then I drove to the main Seattle Post Office and dropped it in a Mailbox.



I had no idea what was going to happen in Killeen, Texas, home of Fort Hood and the Weber family when the package arrived. I was certainly hoping that Mrs. Weber got the package and not Mr. Weber. I did know what I wanted to happen, however. I wanted Mrs. Weber to castrate the bastard then shove his balls down his throat.



I felt sorry for the three children I saw, assuming they were his, and, of course, Mrs. Weber, but there was nothing too bad for Weber himself. He should rot in hell.



The news from Killeen took a little over a month. I received a call from Aunt Lucy. "I'm going to ask you a question and I want an honest answer," she said.



"I'll do my best."



"Your best won't be good enough. I want total honesty. Did you and Keith do that to Weber?"



"Aunt Lucy, I'm not being a smart ass, but did we do what to him?"



"Set him up so his wife would file for a divorce."



"Okay. Here's what I did." I told her the truth. Most of it, anyway. I left out Keith's role. I figured if anyone was going to get in trouble it was going to be me."



"You sure enough set off a hornet's nest. Apparently when his wife got your package, she didn't know if you had his DNA or someone else's, so she did it herself. She got some of his DNA and sent it in for processing. She also sent in the profiles from that lady and the child. They came back as a match and the stinky stuff really hit the fan. Who was the lady he 'dallied' with, anyway?"



"She was my wife, Aunt Lucy."



"Oh, Lordy. I thought it might be something like that. Well, he got served in his office yesterday, and he's not a happy camper. He ranted and raved all over the base."



"Good. Hearing from you that his marriage is over is the best news I've had in a long time. I just feel sorry for his family."



It was over for me. Lydia and were divorced and Weber was on his way to being divorced. My life was going forward. 



During the next months, I went out on a couple of dates, but nothing special happened. I still spent a lot of time with George and Marian Johnson. I lived in an apartment and invited them over for dinner once in a while, but I had lots of dinners at their house and spent more than one night on their sofa. I had another year to do at Fort Lewis, and was thinking about buying a house, but the Army had other ideas. They sent me to Command and General Staff College (C&amp;GS) at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.



I was there for almost a year. There were lots of social opportunities... if you were married... or if you had a significant other; otherwise, the pickings were pretty slim. It was a long, but interesting year. Graduation found me back stationed back at Fort Hood. I was surprised, because I expected to be sent overseas like 90% of my classmates.



As I was processing into Hood, I found myself in Aunt Lucy's office. "How did you get back here?" she asked. 



"I have no idea."



"I have," came a voice from the past. It was newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel (LTC) Keith Franklin. He came in the office, closed the door and we shook hands. "Turns out I need an assistant and a Major just graduating from C&amp;GS was just the ticket, so I requested him."



Keith and I had talked several times since we had been here for the seminar, but we hadn't seen each other. I was happy to see my friend.



I took two weeks leave after I signed in. The first thing I did was look for a house. Lydia and I had been saving our money to buy one. I had supposed she would get half of it in the divorce she didn't show up in court, so I got it all.



I went to the Fort Hood branch of the First National Bank, Texas, and opened an account. I also made arrangements to have my money transferred to that bank. I was telling the person helping me that I also needed to find a house. Just as I said that, the Branch Manager was walking by. He introduced himself and told me his name. "Dwight Randolph. We just moved here about six months ago and moved into a brand-new subdivision. The houses are very nice and affordable. You get a big bang for your buck." He went to his office and brought back the business card of the agent he had used.



I figured if she was good enough for a bank branch manager, she was good enough for me. I called her and it only took me three days to find what I wanted. I paid over half down and the bank was happy to finance the rest. I could have paid for it, but I didn't want to use all of my money. 



I started my new job working with Keith and moved into my brand-new house. The first things I bought were a bed, recliner and a big TV. Oh, and a lawn mower, 



I was spending my first night in the new house. It was getting dark outside and I had neither curtains nor drapes. I didn't even have enough sheets to cover the big front window. I had just opened a beer and had a slice of pizza in my hand when the doorbell rang. It was pepperoni pizza. I had long since gotten off the diet of no red meat the Lydia had me on. I answered it and there was a very attractive woman standing there.



"Hi, neighbor," she said. "My name is Samantha Randolph, but everybody calls me Sammie. We live next door. We haven't lived here long ourselves and I just wanted to say hello and introduce myself and tell you if you need anything, just ask. Is your wife here?"



I smiled. "Fred Sadler. No wife. Divorced." I saw her frown. "But don't worry, I don't do loud, wild parties, or even soft, wild parties." She smiled. 



We chatted for a few more minutes before she left.



The first week in my new house flew by. On Saturday morning, I answered my doorbell to three women bringing food. They also brought decorating ideas. They had seen my empty house when the lights were on at night, when I sat there with nothing but my recliner, TV, Beer and Pizza. They figured it was time to help me. The ring leader was Sammie Randolph. Within a couple of hours, I had a slightly worn, but nice leather sofa, a dining room table and chairs and a small coffee table so my pizza didn't have to sit on the floor. The ladies were just leaving when three small children ran into the house chasing each other.



One of the ladies, Ruth, corralled two of them and Sammie grabbed the third. "Calm down, Sarah." She said as she knelt beside the child, and brushed her blonde hair out of her blue eyes. "This is our new neighbor, Major Sadler." 



"Hello," she said confidently. "My name is Sarah."



I knelt down. "Hello Sarah," I said as I looked into her piercing blue eyes. Blonde hair and blue eyes. I shook my head. "How old are you, Sarah?" 



"I'll be seven soon." Again, with confidence. I stood and we all said our goodbyes.



As soon as they left, I went to the room that was going to be my den, found the box I was looking for, opened it and came up with the folder. In it were the pictures I took of Hope. Hope and Sarah were the same child. The adoption papers named Dwight and Samantha Randolph as the adopted parents. I literally fell back on my ass and just sat there.



What were the odds? He had been the Assistant Manager of another branch of the bank in Corsicana, TX, before being promoted and transferred to Killeen and Fort Hood. 



That was too fucking weird. No computer could calculate the odds of that happening.



Sammie and a friend of hers basically decorated my house. It took a couple of weeks to finish, and when it was, we had a neighborhood open house. Sammie invited her sister-in-law, Joanie Payne, who just happened to be divorced and attractive. 



I hadn't had the benefit of female companionship in a long time. Joanie and I hit it off pretty well from the git-go. She was the last to leave the party and I couldn't wait to call her the next day. We met for lunch and had dinner with Dwight, Sammie, and Sarah. Sarah didn't last long, because she wanted to go play with her friends.



Over the next couple of months, we were together as much as possible.



The first night we spent together was a really good night. She, like me, had been celibate for a long time. Our joint effort to end our celibacy started in my car in a restaurant parking lot. We had just finished dinner and were in the car. She slid close to me and put her hand on my leg. We kissed slow and easy at first. We had kissed before, but neither of us had made any attempt to go further... until the parking lot. As I said, the first kiss was slow and easy, but the next one was "cave man" wild. We almost destroyed the front of my car wrestling around and groping. Finally, we calmed down and she spoke.



"Your house is closer. Let's get there and get naked before we are arrested for public indecency."



She was taking off her clothes and pulling at mine as we pulled in the driveway and into the garage. We got out of the car and started into the house. She was naked from the waist down and I had one leg out of my pants and one in as I hopped across the floor. We made it as far as the sofa. She got on the floor and finished taking off my pants and underwear. She lay back on the sofa. I started unbuttoning her blouse so I could get at her tits.



"Forget that. Fuck me." We were like two teenagers going at it for the first time; just driving, pounding, grunting and rolling. It didn't take long for both of us to explode. After that first time, which can only be called a rutting session, we made our way to my bedroom. There we undressed and took a shower together.



There are few things more sensual than showering with a pretty woman. My shower was huge. In fact, the whole bathroom was huge.



After showering, we walked hand in hand to my bed where she took off the bedspread with the question, "Did Sammie pick this out for you?"



"She did." 



"It figures. We'll have to get a different one."



The rest of the night was slow and easy sex. No rush. No fever. Just love. Doggy was her favorite, so we did it more than once. Missionary is my favorite because we can look at each other as we fuck. We did that more than once, as well.



We both liked oral. She loved being on her knees sucking me with our eyes fixed each other's eyes. Usually, I closed my eyes when I came, but with her, whenever I closed them she would stop sucking and pinch my ass or yank on my balls until I opened them and looked at her. 



I like to think that all women love, and I mean really loooove sex, and Joanie was no exception. It was mid-afternoon and we had taken another shower. We went downstairs to find something to eat. We were both in bathrobes. Hers was open, and as she moved, I could see her whole front. I liked that view.



We were sitting at the kitchen island when the doorbell rang. I closed my robe and went to answer it. It was Sammie. "Afternoon, Fred," she said as she waltzed in. "We were wondering if..." She saw Joanie. "Well, what do we have here?" she said as she moved toward her sister-in-law. Joanie was sitting on a stool munching on a ham and cheese sandwich. As Sammie approached her, she put the sandwich down and spun to face her sister-in-law. Her robe was open so Sammie reached to close it.



Joanie laughed. "Too late for modesty, sis, he's already seen it all. As a matter of fact, he's..."



"Never mind," Sammie said. "Spare me the details. Anyway, we were wondering if you, Fred, and since you're here, you, Joanie, would like to go to the mall. Fred, I know there are some things you still need for the house."



"Yeah, like that God-awful bedspread," Joanie added.



"What's wrong with the bedspread? I picked it out."



"That's what's wrong with it?" Joanie said as she stood and kissed Sammie on the cheek. I walked out of the room and went upstairs to get dressed. When I came back, they were still debating my bedspread. When they saw that I was dressed, they stopped talking.



"We would love to go to the mall," I said. "If we can get Joanie to get dressed."



She came down a few minutes later dressed in the clothes she had worn to dinner last night. "If this keeps up, I'm going to have to leave some clothes over here. I can't go shopping dressed like this."



"You can today," I said as I pushed her out of the house. Dwight was as surprised as Sammie was to see his sister coming out of my house. 



"Don't ask," said Sammie.



Dwight and I sat in the front while the two women and Sarah sat in the back. Joanie read a book to Sarah, who was asleep by the time we got to the mall.



When we got home that evening, I took Joanie home. She invited me in for a "nightcap and a piece of ass." I accepted her offer of both.



The next weekend, Dwight and Sammie asked Joanie to watch Sarah while they went out for lunch; just the two of them.



We were in the backyard watching Sarah in her sandbox. Without looking at Joanie, I said, "She's a beautiful child, isn't she?"



"Yes, she is. Did you know she's adopted?"



"Really?"



"Yes. They've had her since right after she was born. From what the adoption agency told them, the birth mother was married, had an affair with a man she didn't even remember and got pregnant. Her husband was in the military. She didn't want him to know she had the affair, so she gave Sarah up for adoption. Dwight and Sammie were there to take her home."



"Is Sarah the name her birth mother gave her?"



"No. That name was Hope. It's on the birth certificate, but Sammie and Dwight changed it. Sarah fits her better."



"Whatever happened to the birth mother and her husband?"



"No idea. The adoption agency locks their files pretty tightly. They don't give the birth mother access to the adopted family's information, and vice versa."



Just then, Sarah came up and wanted to sit in Joanie's lap. She leaned her head against Joanie and was almost immediately asleep. After a few minutes, Joanie asked me to carry Sarah to her bedroom and put her to bed. It was the first time I had ever touched her and I felt very uncomfortable. I was happy to put her down.



Seven months later, Joanie moved in with me. A year after that we were married. We had a very happy year until the Army stepped in. We were told that we were being sent to Germany for a three-year tour. We had 60 days to get there.



One of the things the Government does well is move people and we were "in country" with all of our belongings, including my car, well within the time given us.



Germany is a beautiful country and the Heidelberg area is spectacular. Joanie had never been out of the US, so enjoyed the adventure and the trips we took around Europe. One of the first things we did was buy her a new car. She was in seventh heaven, tooling around on the highways driving as fast as she wanted to in a car built to go at high speeds.



We made two trips back to the States, one when she and Dwight's father died. The other was for her class reunion. Both times, of course, we saw Dwight and Sammie. We saw Sarah at the funeral, but she was at camp when we went back for the reunion. I breathed a sigh of relief. Sarah and I never got along. I suppose some internal mechanism told both of us that we weren't going to be friends. That suited me fine.

<hr pg="4" />I understood that she had no say about being born or who her parents were, but in my mind, she was still the love child of my ex-wife and her lover.



Keith and I had more than one discussion on the fantastic turns of events that brought us to where we were, and he blamed himself. Had he not gotten his brother to hack the adoption agency, we wouldn't have known who or where Hope was. 



When our three years were up, we received orders for Fort Bragg, NC. I was going as a brand new LTC, assigned to the post headquarters as the Executive Officer to the Post Commander. It was normally a position for a Colonel, not a very junior Lieutenant Colonel, but I didn't object. In the world of the military, you didn't look a gift horse in the mouth. 



Joanie and I had decided to live in Government Quarters while stationed there. Our house in Killeen was being rented out and we chose to keep doing that.



As part of my settling into my new job, the staff set up a series of briefings with the various departments that kept the post running. One of the briefings was to be given by the Post Engineer. The representatives from that office, plus the Post Engineer himself, were already in the conference room when I arrived. I sat at my appointed place at the table and watched as the blue-eyed blonde stood to start his speech. He introduced himself as Kurt Weber. I just stared at him. He spoke for an hour and I didn't hear a word he said and my eyes didn't leave his face. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable with my staring at him. At the end of his presentation, he asked if I had any questions.



"Tell me, Mr. Weber. Have you ever been to Fort Hood?"



"Yes sir. I was in the engineering office there."



"Did you like it there?"



"Yes sir."



"Why did you leave."



"That's rather personal, sir."



"You're right. I withdraw the question. I just like to know about the people I'm working with. I seem to recall something of a scandal in the Fort Hood Engineers Office a few years ago. Do you know anything about that?"



"Uh. I vaguely recall something about one."



"It involved someone cheating if I remember correctly. Ah, well, just something I remembered. Thank you for your briefing. If you need anything from the Headquarters, don't hesitate to call on me. Just in case you've forgotten, my name is Sadler. S-a-d-l-e-r. Fred Sadler. I wouldn't want you to forget it."



I was still looking right in his eyes and I saw the light bulb go on and his eyes get huge. Kurt Weber turned several different colors, starting with red and ended with a pale-grey. I stood and left.



That afternoon I heard that Mr. Kurt Weber had requested a transfer. Unfortunately for him, that request had to go through me. When I received it the next day, I wrote DENIED in big letters and I added the handwritten note: 'I have plans that involve Mr. Weber's knowledge and experience. He will be key in carrying out those plans.'



The next day, to the surprise of almost everyone, Mr. Kurt Weber submitted a request for immediate resignation. I signed it. 



I was more in love with Joanie every day. I watched as she grew more beautiful and sexier. I looked in the mirror every morning and saw nothing but a middle-aged man getting older and wondered what she saw in me, but whatever it was, I was grateful she did. 



We enjoyed our time together, and time, in the form of years, went by quickly. Much quicker than I wanted.



We were stationed in Alaska and took a trip to Killeen to visit Sammie and Dwight. Our first evening there they involved us in a decision they had made along with Sarah, who was now almost 18 years old. She knew from early on that she was adopted, but now she was interested in trying to find her birth parents. Both Dwight and Sammie supported her decision, but the Adoption agency wasn't giving her any help, claiming they were forced to abide by the laws. All we heard that first day was how archaic the laws were and that there was a need to reform them, especially in view of how important it could be for an adopted child to know about any health history the birth parents may have had.



What they decided to do was get on the website that dealt with DNA and ancestry, submit Sarah's DNA and see what happens.



Sarah thought it might be nice if her birth mother came to her graduation, but since it was only a couple of weeks away, that wasn't likely they decided.



Joanie and I were in bed later that night when she asked, "What are you going to do?"



"About what?"



"About Sarah."



"What about her?"



"Come on, Fred. Married couples have no secrets... or shouldn't have. I found your little folder six months after we were married. She can avoid having to do the DNA thing if you tell them what you know."



"Oh, shit," I said.



"Yeah, oh shit."



"Why haven't you said anything all these years?"



"I'm not sure. I guess I knew how sensitive you would be about it, and Dwight and Sammie didn't need to know, so I kept quiet."



"But now?"



"But now it has become important and you need to address it."



"Any suggestions as to how I go about doing that?"



"Just tell the story, I suppose."



"How do you think they'll take it?"



"Dwight is my brother and is like me so he'll take it okay. Sammie is the dark horse."



"Okay. Tomorrow, we'll get Sarah out of the house and tell them."



She leaned over and kissed me softly. "Do you ever get tired of me?" she asked.



"What a stupid question," I said. "Of course not. Why did you even ask?"



"Because you haven't touched me all day."



I grinned and reached for the buttons on her pajama top. "I can fix that right now."



The next morning was Sunday. Sarah's BFF picked her up and they headed for the mall.



I gathered the four of us around the table, took a deep breath, and started. I began by telling them that Joanie and I had packed our bags before coming downstairs so we were ready if they wanted to kick us out. They looked at us and Joanie shrugged her shoulders. 



"Sarah doesn't have to submit her DNA on the chance that she might find a relative. I know who her birth parents are," I said. The looks I received from both of them told me I had better explain myself, so I told them the whole story. 



When I was finished, I took a deep breath and looked around the table. Dwight was just staring at me and Sammie had tears in her eyes. After a couple of seconds, she got up, came to me, took my hands, pulled me up, and hugged me.



"Oh, you poor man. Living with that all these years and not being able to talk about it. Nobody deserves that." She hugged me again. "What do you think, Dwight?" she asked her husband.



"I'm trying to calculate the odds on how we all got together. I don't think there is a number large enough."



"So what do we do now?" asked Sammie as she returned to her chair.



"I think Fred should get in touch with his ex-wife and invite her to the graduation, since Sarah wants her to be there." said Joanie.



"Me? Why me?" I protested.



"Because you started it." Dwight grinned. "But who's going to contact Weber?"



"Not me," I said, and I told them about the last time I had seen him.



"You never told me that," said Joanie.



"I didn't know you knew the whole story, now did I?"



She leaned oved and kissed me. I love this woman, I thought.



Later that day when Sarah got back, Dwight and Sammie told her. She was both nervous and excited and wanted us to go ahead. 



The only way I knew to get in touch with Lydia was through her parents... if they were still alive... and if they still lived in Mechanicsburg... and if they still had a landline.



I waited until Monday morning and talked to a Private Investigator. I asked him to help locate both Lydia's parents and Kurt Weber. It took two hours for him to get a phone number for the parents. Weber was taking a bit longer.



I called Lydia's parents, reminded them who I was, and told them that I needed to speak to Lydia. I gave them my number to pass on to her.



Less than an hour later, my phone rang. 



"Hello?"



"This is Lydia Bowman. I was given this number... "



"Hello, Lydia." 



"Fred?" 



"Yes. How are you?" I asked, trying to think of something intelligent to say, but failing.



"Actually, I'm great. How are you?"



"Really good. Uh, Lydia, there is something very important I need to talk with you about."



"Okay. Go ahead."



"Not over the phone. Tell me where we can meet and we'll talk in person."



"Let me get this straight. We haven't talked in years and suddenly out of the blue, you have something so important to talk about that it has to be done in person?"



"That's about it."



"Sorry, Fred. I'm not buying it."



"Okay, but just remember I gave you the chance."



"Chance at what?" Come on, Fred, what is it?"



"Only in person, Lydia. Call me if you change your mind."



"Wait. Wait. All right, dammit. We live in Vegas."



"That's better. I'll fly out there tomorrow and call you when I land. You can decide where you want to meet."



The next afternoon we met in the lobby of the Bellagio Hotel. I guess she wanted lots of witnesses. She still looked good. "Hello, Lydia."



"Hello, Fred." We hugged. "This is my husband, Roland. Roland Bowman."



"Hello, Roland. It's nice to meet you." I turned my attention to Lydia. "I need to see you in private for like 10 seconds."



"Anything you have to say you can say in front of Roland."



"If you say so, but it's about the HOPE you had." She went pale. "Is it still okay to talk?"



"Yes. He knows about her."



"Good. Let's sit." We found as quiet a corner as we could, given where we were. "I recommend we get something to drink. Wine okay?" We agreed on red and I ordered it. "Let's wait until we have some in our glasses." I paid for the wine and we all took a sip. "Her name is Sarah and she graduates from High School in two weeks and would like for you to be there."



Both Roland and I watched as she passed out with her wine glass in her hand and she didn't spill a drop. Roland took her glass, set it down and patted her cheeks until she came to.



"What did you say?"



I repeated it. Then I took out the most recent picture I had of Sarah and showed it to Lydia. She started to bawl as she touched the photo as gently as she could. 



"She's beautiful. Where did you get this?"



"I took it yesterday in her living room."



"You took it? How? Why?" I told her the whole story from start to finish. I even told her that we were trying to find Kurt Weber to invite him, but he seemed to have disappeared. She didn't know that I knew his name, so she was shocked a second time. 



She was overwhelmed at first, but then she got mad. Really mad. "Why didn't you ever tell me? Why did you keep her from me all these years?"



Her voice was getting very loud. Roland jumped in. "Settle down. Settle down. You gave up all rights to her. Fred is breaking the law doing what he's doing now, so cool it." She settled down.



"When can I see her?"



"At her Graduation if you want to come."



"Of course I'll come. Can't I see her sooner?" 



"You both need some time to get used to this. Don't rush it. How about getting there the day before?"



She smiled. "That would be wonderful."



"Now, how about I take a picture of you so she can see what you look like?"



"Okay." We found a place outside for her to pose. When I started to leave, she leaped at me, hugged me, and started kissing all over my face and head."



"Not a bit demonstrative, is she?" asked Roland, laughing. I decided I could like him.



I flew back that afternoon to prepare Sarah. I showed her Lydia's photo. 



"She's beautiful," Sarah said. She was very nervous, but excited, as well.



"Now we know where you get your beauty." Sammie said, holding tightly to Sarah.



"Do you know what my birth father looks like?" Sarah asked timidly. The other three adults looked at me with wide eyes on edge about what I was going to say.



I thought for just a second before speaking. "Let me just say that you get your blonde hair and blue eyes from him."



The three adults breathed sighs of relief. 



We had only taken a week's leave so I had to get back to Alaska, but Joanie stayed to help everybody get ready for the big day. I flew back to Alaska, promising to be back two days before graduation. 



The day before I was to go back to Killeen, the PI called me. The most he could find out about Weber was that after he resigned from Civil Service, he took a job as a consultant for the Government of one of the mid-east countries. Like a couple of other American Consultants, he disappeared shortly after arriving "in country," and nobody had seen him since.



I met Lydia and Roland at the airport and took them straight to Sarah's house. She was standing in the middle of the living room when we walked in. I let Lydia go first.



They just looked at each other for a long time then Lydia spoke. "I brought you this," she said as she pulled out the pacifier, "it's yours and I thought you might like it back."

