It took me several hours to compose my letter to Veronica. It was a difficult letter to write. To contact a stranger and inform them that you are their long lost half-brother is not an easy thing to do. Just when I thought I had finished the letter I would reread it and then tear it up, and start all over again. Finally out of exhaustion and frustration I decided to simply speak from my heart and let the consequences fall where they may. My Letter read:

I mailed the letter to Veronica's business address. The envelope was registered 'return receipt requested' and marked 'personal to addressee only.' Three days later, the return receipt postal card was returned to me with Veronica's signature on it. I studied her handwriting carefully. Her script greatly resembled my mothers. I barely slept the next several days. I would rush to the post office twice a day hoping that her letter would arrive. Every time I answered the telephone I prayed that the voice I would hear would be hers. Days passed, than weeks, and then months. Veronica never replied.

Finally after four months of waiting I gave up hope of ever hearing from her. That day I sat down and wept out of sheer frustration for not having selected the proper words to reach her heart. To worsen matters Pat admitted to me that he did not believe that Veronica was the woman whom I believed to be my half sister.

"I do not believe this story at all," he confessed. "I believe you have gone too far with your assumptions and scared this poor Mrs. Simas woman off. She probably thinks you are a nut! I never did believe this story from the beginning. I don't mean to hurt you Walden, but I do not believe that your mother gave birth to any children other than you, Marilyn and Priscilla!"

I was confused as to why, after all the facts had been presented to him, Pat couldn't accept the fact that I did have another sister? I was hurt and disappointed by his disbelief and in a rage of childish frustration I decided that on my next day off I would take the two hour drive to Tracy without telling him where I was going. I felt certain that Veronica was the woman my mother had given birth to and I was determined to prove it to Pat. I drove directly to Tracy High School, knowing that this school would have been Veronica's alumni. I went to the office of the school's administrator and requested permission to visit the school's library.

"I am doing research on a project," I stated.

I was granted a pass and escorted by the librarian to the high schools alumni section where year books were kept. I had assumed that Veronica might have graduated in 1953? If my assumption was correct my mother would have been eighteen at the time of Veronica's birth. Assuming I was correct Veronica would have been born in 1935. Therefore it was likely that Veronica would have graduated high school in 1953.

As I thumbed through the pages of the graduates of 1953, before even reading her name, I was startled by the photograph of a beautiful raven haired young girl whose face was the replica of my mother's. Eyes, lips and small, perfectly formed nose…all were exact. I knew before I looked that the name under the photo would read, 'Veronica Luis,' and it did. There were no other photos of Veronica in the freshman, sophomore and junior year books.

I made a few photo copies of her graduation picture and left the library. My visit hadn't taken more than forty minutes. It was nearly Noon. I was never one to eat lunch but for some strange reason I walked into a nearby restaurant as if someone had hypnotized me and compelled to do so. I found myself sitting at a table and reading a menu. I wondered why I had entered the restaurant in the first place for I wasn't the least bit hungry. I decided to leave and then thought that if I should do so might appear to be rude, as if I didn't like the menu or something, and so I politely ordered a small Chefs Salad and a cup of coffee.

A moment later I saw a familiar looking man rise from his table and hurriedly come walking towards me. At first I could not place who he was? He looked nervous and quite upset about something and was staring directly into my eyes when he came to a stop at my table.

"Mr. Welch!" he exclaimed as he extended his hand towards me in greeting. "What in the world are you doing here?" He asked. "I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you sitting here at this table."

As I stood to shake hands with him I realized that this man was William Mattos, the cousin of Veronica Simas.

"Well for goodness sake," I replied. "I am as surprised to see you as you are to see me. Please sit and join me. Would you like to order something?" I asked.

"No thank you. I have just finished my lunch and I am on my way back to work. I work at the bank across the street. However I still have time for one quick cup of coffee." He called his order to the waiter and was promptly served.

"I must admit that I am embarrassed to see you again," he said as he sipped a drink from his cup. "I'm afraid I did not leave you with a good impression when I last saw you at The Russian River Resort in Guerneville."

"You need not apologize. I realize you were in a state of shock when you discovered that I was your Cousin Veronica's half brother," I answered. "However, I must admit that I was quite confused as to why you refused to have anything to do with helping me make contact with her?" I commented bluntly.

Mr. Mattos looked embarrassed by my statement. He then replied, "I owe you an apology and an explanation for that. I felt badly for my conduct. Veronica is of course the reason you are here in Tracy?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"Have you made contact with her? Have you two met?" he asked.

"No, unfortunately I have not. I wrote her a letter four months ago. She has never replied. I don't know why she has not replied? It was a very kind and unthreatening letter. She obviously is not interested in knowing me for whatever her reasons. However I have decided to still pursue my investigation to find out all I can about her. I guess I am mostly confused as to why she rejects me and I am hoping to find the answer to that question. I came to Tracy today to visit the high school library. I found a picture of Veronica in her senior class year book." I handed the photocopy of the portrait for Mr. Mattos to see.

"Wasn't she beautiful? He commented.

"She looks exactly like my mother .Exactly, Mr. Mattos," I commented.

"I see," he replied. "Did it upset you to see their likeness'?"

"No, not at all. It confirms the fact she is my sibling. I have no doubts whatsoever after seeing her photo," I replied.

Mr. Mattos raised his head and looked intensely into my eyes. He lowered his voice to a whisper as to not be overheard by others in tables nearby, and said, "I owe you an apology and an explanation Walden. I cannot become personally involved in your search. I want to help you but you must promise me that you will never mention that you have met me. You see, I am a gay man. I am married and I have a son and a daughter. It would destroy my family's lives were they to know that I am a homosexual. I lied to my family and told them that I was away on a business trip in San Francisco the day you and I met at that birthday party in Russian River last July. My entire family is Roman Catholic. No one in my family including my cousin Veronica could ever understand my sexual preference nor could they accept it. Tracy is an old fashioned family town. We don't have gay pride day parades here I can assure you of that. I am also a prominent member of our community. I am vice-president of a bank. My life and career would be destroyed were my secret to be discovered."

"I understand," I replied. However, I also suspected that he was not telling me the entire truth. My instincts were that he and Veronica were not on as close personal terms as he had implied they were, during our conversation at Russian River, and that Mr. Mattos was too embarrassed to admit so.

"Mr. Mattos I cannot understand what your lifestyle has to do with me, nor can I comprehend how your knowing me would give your secret away? Your reasoning confuses me. If you are afraid someone might learn that you met me in a popular gay resort that fact would never have to be admitted to. Besides, the guests at the party were a very mixed group. There were as many straight people there as there were gay ones. It was simply a birthday party and it consisted of most of Bill Howard's friends and family."

He did not answer me. He sat silently across the table looking very confused and extremely uncomfortable.

"Are you uncomfortable with the fact that I am an astrologer?" I asked bluntly.

He looked down at his hands as if ashamed to look me in the eye and stated, "As I told you. We are a Catholic family. The sort of thing that you do is not respected by our church and I have to admit that I don't believe in that sort of hocus pocus at all."

I felt my face grow hot and redden; whether from anger or embarrassment I was not sure. The rudeness and insensitivity of his comment offended me deeply but rather than defend myself I said, "I could certainly debate your opinion but this is neither the time nor the place. I know far more about the subject of Astrology than either you or your priest does, of that I can assure you. I'm hurt by your comment. It was rude, but I think you spoke from the top of your head and I don't think that you intended it to be? I do not need your help to do my personal investigation Mr. Mattos. I am managing on my own just fine. I have no intention of ever mentioning to anyone that I have met you. That is a promise and so you need not worry. I think what you are really trying to tell me is that it is likely your cousin Veronica has rejected me because of my lifestyle and also because of my profession? Is this so?"

"It is likely," he replied. "I do not know what she knows about you, or even if she knew before she received your letter that you existed at all? All I can recall is that many years ago she did a search and she discovered that her birth mother had already died. You stated you do not need my help. However I would like to share with you something else that I do know. It isn't much but it may help. There has been a great deal of controversy over Veronica's adoption throughout the years. This is a town that relishes its gossip and rumors. There have been many ugly tales regarding your sister's birth. Many of these stories contradict one another. It is hard to sort the truth from the lies. The deeper you explore the uglier the stories will become. I warn you that you may regret, for your mother's sake that you chose to undertake this investigation. There is an elderly woman who was born and raised in this town who will probably know more than anyone else about Veronica's adoption, except of course for Veronica's mother Katherine. This woman's name is Mildred Kane. I warn you she has an acid tongue and can she can be very wicked indeed. Be careful of what you ask and be careful of what you say to her. Don't tell her too much for she has always had the reputation of being the worst gossip in town."

He pulled a small note pad from his breast pocket and scribbled her name and number on a sheet of paper and handed it to me. "And, please, don't go and visit her personally. It would be best to telephone her and keep your distance."

I thanked Mr. Mattos and put the address in my jacket pocket. He stood up in preparation to leave said, "Well I must get back to the office now." He looked about the room quizzically and asked, "Where is your lady friend?"

"What lady friend? I answered.

"That lady you came into the restaurant with. You know, the one you sent to my table to ask me to join you."

"I have no idea who you are talking about?" I answered truthfully.

"Well for goodness sake!" he stated in a tone of frustration. She was sitting here with you when you first arrived and she walked directly over to me and said, "Excuse me. My name is Pearl… Pearl Shannon. My friend Walden Welch just noticed you sitting here and was hoping that you would join him at his table? He says that the two of you have some unfinished business."

I was so dumbfounded by his words that the look on my face must have scared him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes," I stammered.

"I think you had best sip a drink of water. You look as if you have just seen a ghost," he said as he handed me my water glass. His observation could not have been more accurate. However it was William Mattos who had seen the ghost. My friend Reverend Pearl Shannon had died on December 20th of 1985. The year was now 1994.

Rather than frighten him I said, "Oh Yes…my friend Pearl Shannon. She came along with me for the ride. She left the restaurant to run an errand. She said she would come back and meet me here. I will wait for here until she returns."

We shook hands 'good-bye' and I waited until Mr. Mattos had walked out of sight before leaving the restaurant and getting into my car.

Although I had promised myself I would not allow myself to drive past either Veronica's home or floral shop, I knew that I would not keep that promise. I had already sought directions to both places on a city map before I had left home. First I drove by her shop as it was not far from the restaurant where I had lunch. Her shop was open and it was likely she was inside and it saddened me that I did not have the right to enter and introduce myself. My next stop was on Linney Road. I stood in a vacant barren field where green alfalfa once grew and stared off into the distance to the spot where my grandparent's house, long ago torn down, had once stood. I could locate the exact site by the skeletal outline of two trees. One was fig, the other apricot. Now dead, they had at one time bordered my grandparent's house. As children my cousins and I had boasted that that very fig tree was the worlds largest. Now, through my adult eyes it looked very small. Grandma had canned thousands of jars of preserves and jams from those two tree's. We bragged that the magical figs that grew on the fig tree kept the entire family 'regular' throughout the year. We could rarely wait for the apricots to ripen. Instead we would pluck them green and salt them vigorously, knowing full well the tartness would soon make us sick. We didn't favor apricots as much as figs but used the apricot fruit to cover the smell of tobacco on our breath from the sinful cigarettes we would steal from our parents, hide behind that tree, and smoke.

It seemed sacrilegious that the small farm house no longer existed. I had said my first prayers in the house which had once stood between those trees. I had been visited by angels there. It had been the house where my grandmother taught me to tie my shoes. The first Christmases and Easter Sundays of my life were spent there. The first time I had ever seen Santa Clause was at this very place. It was also here, to my heartbreak at the age of seven, that I came to discover he really had never existed. Almost everybody I had ever loved during my childhood years had either lived or visited at this very place. It had been a house where pain and unhappiness had never existed. I ached to be able to once again see and smell the gardens of Honeysuckle, Snap Dragon's and Dahlia's that my grandmother had planted. There were no longer any signs of life whatsoever. The land was now nothing more than a deserted gravel quarry, barren and lifeless as the landscape of the moon. I was sorry I had come to witness the changes.

During the late 50's, after my grandparents sold their Tracy property and moved to Santa Cruz, I asked Grandma if she ever missed the old farm.

"It served its purpose. It was a good home. It provided us with an adequate living for our needs. I raised my family there and loved all the moment's that we shared, but life must move forward. Never look back, Wally. Memories can be too painful."

She was right. They were. Putting my reminiscences behind me, I continued to drive on to where Veronica lived. I was surprised to find that her home which was located on New Jerusalem Road was less than two miles North West from where my grandparents have lived. It was an impressive red brick two story estate encircled by a white wrought iron verandah and a grove of large Chinaberry trees. I judged the house to sit at least two acres away from the road. I parked by the mail box set at the mouth of the long driveway leading to her home. In large black letters it read, "The Simas Family."

The farm was huge. It was difficult to estimate it's acreage for it appeared to encompass everything as far as the eye could see. Off in the distance were numerous barns, corrals and tractors which were apparently all part of the family estate. The house looked strangely familiar to me although I am certain I had never been inside of it. I recalled that somewhere in my childhood I had seen a red brick house trimmed with a white wrought iron verandah and surrounded my Chinaberry Trees. I had excitedly remarked to my mother that it was the most beautiful and elegant house I had ever seen and that when I grew up and became rich I was going to buy one exactly like it for her. Looking at Veronica's house drew to mind that long ago memory. I stayed for about fifteen minutes, just staring foolishly at the house. For a moment, I felt just as Cal Trask must have felt as he stalked the woman who he had discovered was his mother in John Steinbeck's "East of Eden." Ashamed of myself and my peeping Tom behavior, I turned on the ignition of my car and began the drive back home, uncertain but sensing that Pearl Shannon was sitting beside me all the while.

That evening, Pat and I were enjoying our usual pre-dinner cocktail hour together. It was not until then that I shared with him the fact that I had made a trip to Tracy that morning.

"I hope to God that you didn't bother that woman named Veronica?" he said.

"No Pat. I did not see her or phone her or anything," I answered.

"No doubt you drove by here home and her shop and spied on her?" he asked.

"Yes, I did," I admitted guiltily, "But I didn't see her or leave a note or anything like that."

"Well then, what did you go to Tracy for?" Pat asked.

"This," I said as I handed him the photocopy of Veronica's graduation picture.

"She really was a beautiful girl wasn't she?" Pat stated. "I never saw this picture of her before. Where did you find it?"

"At the Tracy high school library," I answered.

Pat raised his head and looked up at me and asked, "Did Julia go to Tracy High School?"

I waited a few seconds and then smiled at him before answering, "That's not my mother's photo, Pat. That photo is the high school graduation picture of my sister Veronica."

Pat's jaw dropped open and his eyes widened. He looked again at the photo and exclaimed, "Oh my God, Wally! I believe you now. This is Julie's daughter. There is no doubt about it! Julie and Veronica look exactly alike! I'm sorry that I doubted you." Pat handed Veronica's photograph back to me and said, "I wish you had told me you were driving to Tracy this morning. That's a couple of hours drive from here. I would have gone with you to keep you company. I hate to think of you driving that distance all alone."

I took a sip of cocktail and said, "But I wasn't alone, Pat."

A surprised look crossed his face and he asked, "You weren't alone? Then who went with you?"

I looked at him and said, "I'm pretty positive that Reverend Pearl Shannon did."

"But she's dead!" he exclaimed. "Yes she is, but I believe that her spirit returned to the earth plane today to help me with my search."

Pat rose from his chair. He took a deep breath to calm himself and then said, "Hold on! Don't say another word until I come back! I'm going to fix myself another drink. I don't want to miss one word of what you are going to say. I just love your ghost stories!"

The End
Of
Part Four

Next
Part Five
"Just Between Mildred Kane, the Gatepost and I"