Previous:
I'd always known that I was adopted. In 2003, at the age of fifty one, I finally decided to look for my birth mother.

After a short search, and with a lot of help, I located my mother in California. I decided to travel from Scotland, where I lived at the time, to look her up.

She welcomed me right away, and invited me to stay with her. My mother told me that two years after she gave me up for adoption she married George, who was from California. They never had any children, and he had sadly died ten years ago.

Now twenty four hours later my mother is telling me the story about my father, and how they'd met in Gothenburg, Sweden in 1951. He'd invited her for a hot drink which she accepted. She was smitten.

Part Twelve:

At this point I sat very still just looking at Mum. I could see the faraway look in her eyes, and I knew she had transported herself back to that cold January day when she'd literally bumped into my father. For a moment I thought she had even forgotten about me.

As for myself, I was in turmoil. This was a lot to assimilate in less than twenty four hours. I had only met my birth mother the day before, but we were becoming closer to each other by the minute. And now, here I was on the brink of finding out who my real father was.

Mum turned to look at me and raised her glass, and I realised she had returned to our present time.

"Ulla, let's finish this glass of wine and then I suggest lunch. I don't know about you, but I'm starving ... again. This is taking a lot out of me, and I would imagine you as well. We need a break. What do you think?"

I could only nod in agreement, but at the same time I was torn. I so wanted to know the story about my father.

But, there was no need to worry.

"I know what you're thinking, Ulla. As soon as we've eaten we'll sit down with a nice cup of coffee, if that's what you want to have, or whatever, and I'll continue the story about your father. But I need some nourishment right here and now!"

I couldn't help my big smile.

"You know what, Mum, this whole thing is going to make us fat if it carries on like this. But I agree we need some food to process it all." I stood and headed towards the kitchen.

"I'll help to put something edible together. The quicker the better. I can't wait to hear the rest."

Mum laughed. "That's OK, come on, let's get cooking."

I thought that it had to be a Danish thing about always doing things that involved food. On the other hand I was genuinely hungry as well. I guessed it was all the emotions that had to work their way through our system. I would suggest a brisk walk after eating before mum resumed the story. Keen as I was to know more, I needed a bit of exercise.

As it turned out Mum agreed with me. She admitted that she needed some fresh air as well, so it was late in the afternoon when we finally settled down out on the terrace yet again. It was a lovely temperature with that certain sweetness in the air that only a day in May can bring.

We both sipped our coffees, the strong aroma drifting in the air. Mum looked at me, and took a deep breath. The story was about to continue.

"Well, I told you that I accepted the offer of the hot drink that I was offered, and we dived into the nearest cafe that was open, with no thought as to whether it was a nice place or not. That's how cold it was."

Even after all these years Mum looked enraptured.

"He was so handsome, Ulla, and at first I was rather tongue tied. But he put me at ease, and we soon talked away. I could immediately tell that he was American."

I just sat there and looked at Mum. So I was half American! A memory stirred within me, and at that very moment it all made sense. It was like the pieces in a puzzle that began to fit into their slots.

The long forgotten remark that my adoptive father had made, when I was a young teenager, about my real father being a foreigner, suddenly came back to me. And there was something else. Something that wanted to surface, but which wouldn't quite make it. What was it? Something else was said that afternoon so very long ago. It was almost there, but then it eluded me yet again. It would come back. I just had to concentrate.

Mum had gone quiet, a concerned look on her face.

"Ulla, are you all right? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"No, no Mum, it's all right. It's just that it reminded me of something, when you said that my father was American. I will explain later. Please, do go on, I can't wait to hear what happened next."

I gave her a big smile, and the truth was that I was eager for her to carry on.

"Oh, the charisma he had. I learned he was in the Merchant Marines and would be calling into Gothenburg rather frequently during the next few months."

Mum turned towards me, cup in hand. "It's important to me that you understand that during the next few months we fell more and more in love with each other. It was a wonderful time. We even talked about having a future together."

I nodded. It was a lot to digest and yet, I was far too keen to learn about it all. So I merely inclined my head, begging Mum to carry on with her story.

"Well, in early May the family, for whom I worked, told me that they regretted they had to terminate our contract as they were moving to some faraway place, and that they wouldn't need me any more. They told me how sorry they were and paid me a handsome amount of money by way of saying thank you. I was not entirely dismayed, and in late June I was back in Denmark, and I moved back in with my mother."

"But, Mum, what about my father? Surely you must have seen him again, otherwise I couldn't exist?"

Mum laughed out loud at this. "Ulla, you have certainly done your maths! And we did indeed see each other again. Your Father sailed into Denmark as well, so we kept on seeing each other as often as we did in Sweden. That was not a problem. But then a few things happened that will forever stay with me. A sequence of things that was to be of consequence for me as well as for you, and for your father as well I suppose."

To be continued.