Cecilia

Everything in my life was uneventful until the phone rang.

I picked up the phone. "Hello," I said innocently.

"Cecelia?" asked the voice on the phone.

"Oh my," I exclaimed. "Thomas you shouldn't be calling me," I stated.

"I wouldn't have except that it's very important and I think you need to know so you don't get blindsided," Thomas said.

"What is it?"

"Several years ago, I joined Ancestry.com. I sent them a saliva sample and they sequenced my DNA. Each month I get a summary of new members of Ancestry.com that are related to me. Most of them are third or fourth cousins with a distant connection to me," Thomas explained.

"How does that involve me?" I asked.

"Today I got the monthly email and one of the relatives is identified as my son," he said.

"Our son?" I asked.

"There's no other possibility," Thomas said.

I suppressed another opportunity to take God's name in vain. "That has to be Jacob Thomas. He'd the only one living out of state. Can you just ignore it?" I asked.

"I'm inclined to but I don't think he will. I'm identified as his father. If it was me I wouldn't drop it."

"Just tell him it has to be a mistake," I suggested.

"That's my plan but I'm sure he'll contact you," Thomas said.

More four-letter words raced through my head. "Thanks for the warning," I said.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I have no idea. Let me think about it," I responded.

"Okay. I hope it goes nowhere but I'm not optimistic."

"Thanks again, I think," I said.

"Bye, Cecelia," he said.

"Bye," I said and hung up.

The rest of the day, all I could think about was how to respond to Jacob Thomas if he asked me if Jacob was really his father. Would he just take my word for it or would he want my husband to take a DNA test? The possibilities were mostly disastrous. I needed some sage advice. There was only one person who I'd be able to talk to about it. Of the two women who counseled me many years ago, only one remained. I contacted her and asked for a private consultation.

We met that evening in the empty schoolhouse. I explained that I needed guidance on the practice of the women protecting the gene pool.

"We do not talk of such matters," she told me.

"I realize that, but a circumstance has arisen that is a potential problem for my family and possibly the rest of the faith," I told her.

"I do not want to know about your personal affairs," she emphasized.

"Let me put it another way," I said. "I believe one of my children is in possession of information indicating that my husband is not his father. If true and he asks questions to affirm the information, it could lead to embarrassing and destructive revelations about my family and the wider community."

She thought for a moment. "We should not have this conversation," she stated.

"I don't see how we cannot have this conversation. The entire fabric of our faith is at stake," I insisted.

"I agree. What is the nature of the information?"

"DNA analysis," I told her.

"DNA analysis," she mused. "I knew this would happen eventually," she added. "Did you seek genetic material outside the confines of the faith?"

I looked at my feet.

"And was it as wonderful as we hinted it would be?" she asked.

I nodded. "I trust you to keep my secret," I said.

"And you mine," she answered. "Can't you just ignore it or claim that there must be a mistake?" she asked.

"If the question is asked, it can't be ignored and, as for claiming a mistake, the possibility is so infinitesimal that the claim is beyond ridiculous. We will be forced to deal with it," I asserted.

"We must and we will," said the wise woman. "If possible, you must intercept your son before he confronts your husband and bring him to meet with me. Otherwise, we will be forced to have your husband become part of the discussion."

"Meanwhile, we wait?" I asked.

"Wait we must, dear. I wish you only the best in the interim."

I didn't have to wait long. The next day, the phone rang.

"Hello," I said hesitantly.

"Hi, mom," said Jacob Thomas.

"Jacob. What a surprise. To what do I attribute your call," I responded.

"I don't know how to begin," he said.

"Start at the beginning," I suggested.

"Mom," Jacob hesitated. "Is my father my real father?"

I sat down. I should have been sitting earlier knowing his question was coming. "Jacob," I said. "The answer to your question has ramifications far beyond a simple answer. It is a question of faith and touches on a tenet of our entire society."

"I guess I have my answer," Jacob said.

"You have an answer but not the whole answer and not the purpose that drives the answer," I told him.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"Jacob," I said. "Before you draw any conclusions and take any actions you may regret later, will you do something for me?" I asked.

"Of course, mom," he responded.

"Could you come home for a couple of days? I want you to meet with a remarkable person who will provide the context you need and provide answers to any questions you may have."

"I can do that," Jacob committed.

"That's wonderful," I commented. "And I need you to do this before you have any contact or discussion with your father. It's critical to you, me, your father and our whole community."

"My real father?" he asked.

"Any father," I said. "When can you come?" I asked.

"Is Saturday too soon?" he asked.

"No. I'll meet you at the train station. I'll set up a meeting and we'll go directly there before we go home. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed.

"Thank you, son. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Bye mom."

"Bye Jacob. See you Saturday."

I set up a meeting in the schoolhouse on Saturday afternoon for about thirty minutes after the train was to arrive. On Saturday, I picked up Jacob at the station. We hugged without noticeable reluctance given the circumstances. I drove us to the schoolhouse. Lovina, the woman I'd been consulting with, was waiting for us.

I introduced Jacob and we sat in a small circle on the chairs in the room.

"So, this is the young man with all the questions," Lovina said.

"Questions but not many answers," responded Jacob.

"I understand. Allow me a minute to speak to our background and our group structure before I provide answers," Lovina asked.

"Okay. Explain away," Jacob said.

"Jacob," Lovina began, "you, me, your mother, your family and all those around us have been born into a faith, a community that goes back hundreds of years. We are a small, tightly knit, group with strong beliefs and a commitment to preserve our faith for those who follow us. However, there are many dangers that accrue to such a small community."

"What dangers?" asked Jacob. "We live in peace within our community and at peace with our neighbors. In my experience, nobody seeks to harm us," stated Jacob.

"Your statement is true but the danger I speak of comes from within," said Lovina.

"How is that?" asked Jacob.

"The danger of conceiving children within a small group of related people is well known," suggested Lovina.

"I know that. I've known that since I was a young man," Jacob insisted.

"But have you ever wondered how we, with our small gene pool, have avoided the consequences?" asked Lovina.

"I believe God has protected us," he stated.

"God has been good to us but his help alone is not enough," said Lovina.

Jacob started to speak but Lovina held up her hand to stop him. "What I'm about to tell you is one of the most important realities of our community. A secret known only to the women but understood by the men. To my knowledge, when I finish, you may be the only man who holds this knowledge and I need your agreement that, under no circumstances will you ever reveal this information to anyone, male or female, inside or outside of the community. Do you agree?"

"Is it necessary I have this knowledge to answer my questions?"

"It is."

"Then I agree."

"Thank you, Jacob," said Lovina. "With God's instruction and His blessing, the women in the community have, for centuries, sought to increase the viability of the gene pool from which the members of the community conceive and bear children. To achieve this end, it is the duty of every woman to seek men outside the community with exceptional attributes like strength, attractiveness and intelligence and have their children. These women are God's messengers and the children are born into the faith, raised within the faith and have children of their own, spreading their genetic wealth throughout the community. They are God's chosen and among His favorites. With one exception, you, they are unaware of their special nature as are the husbands who raise them as their own. This is how God has protected us."

"I think I understand," said Jacob, "but why only the women?"

"A child born of a union between a male member of the community and a woman who was not, will not be born within the faith and will not benefit the community. That is why God has placed the responsibility on the women," Lovina explained.

"True," said Jacob. "But is it fair that Jacob, my mother's husband, is unaware of her sacrifice?"

"Fair is not a consideration," Lovina told him. "Only the woman who makes the sacrifice is aware of her decision. The women believe someone will act in favor of the community but they are unaware of the actual acts or the children born of their sacrifice."

"Wait a second," said Jacob. "Is it possible that you've sacrificed in this manner more than once?" he asked me."

Before I could answer, Lovina raised her hand to stop me. "That is not a question you, or anyone else, is permitted to ask, nor will an answer ever be forthcoming. The sacrifice is between the woman and God. No one else is involved and no one else will ever know," she said.

"This is unbelievable. I'm twenty-one years old and I'm just now finding out that I'm not who I thought I was. My whole life has been a fraud."

"No son, you're not a fraud," I responded."You're the product of an incredible sacrifice, made in front of God and blessed by him, to preserve the faith and way of life of his chosen people. My sacrifice and your life are testaments to His power and His love. You stand above the rest of us. You are the vessel that ensures a faithful and healthy life for the rest of us and all those who follow us."

"And dad?"

"Jacob's silence and acquiesce, in the face of what he surely knows, is his sacrifice for the same purpose. Whether we speak of it or not, and we cannot, we are all in this together, you, me, your father and the rest of the community."

"And," spoke up Lovina, "do I have to remind you of your vow just minutes ago?"

"No. I understand and, while I don't always agree with the tenets of the faith, I will adhere to them," said Jacob.

"Then our task here is finished," said Lovina.

Our task was indeed finished. To my knowledge, Jacob never spoke of it again and our community was safe for the moment, or at least until the next revealing DNA test.

My loving husband, Jacob, was called to his maker shortly after this conversation. He was barely forty-three when God took him home. His funeral was simple and I began a period of mourning. I missed him dearly and my sadness was evident to everyone. On the one-year anniversary of his passing, we held a memorial service for him with the family and friends.

My mourning was officially over but my loneliness and sadness lingered. One evening, Jacob Thomas and I sat on the veranda, watching the sunset. He was aware that my sadness interfered with my enjoyment of the glory of God in the sunset.

He turned to me, took my hand and said to me, "You have a path forward."

He didn't elaborate his on his comment but it did get me to thinking. I never considered that his comment was a violation of his oath of silence. A week later, while all alone in the home Jacob and I shared together and where I birthed seven children, I picked up the phone and dialed a number.

The voice on the other end of the phone said simply, "Hello."

"Hello, Thomas," I said in return. "I have a favor to ask."