Page 51 of The Cannon
Bristol always looks good. Cut offs or scrubs. Today’s choice is stellar. Think she told me it’s called a pencil skirt. Yeah, that’s it. Navy blue and clinging to her curves. White blouse, collar popped. The red heels.Good God girl. You’re waking up the rocket.
“Brick. Your wife wants you to come say goodbye to her cousins who came from California,” she says.
“Okay, after I drop these off. See you two tomorrow. Coming for dinner?”
“We’ll be there.” She gives her brother a peck on the cheek and I open the door for her to get in.
“Hi, George.”
“Miss Bristol.”
“Hello you,” I say leaning in for a kiss. “How was the shower?”
“Fun. It was a good group.” Her chin dips and her eyes look to the heavens. “Think we raised the decimal level to ear shattering.”
Pulling away we head for the church.
“I bet about now the kids are getting excited. Did anyone back out?” Bristol asks.
“Not really. Well, one dad said he couldn’t bring the boy to the church, so I arranged for one of the other parents to pick him up.”
My cell sounds an email. Reaching into my pocket I retrieve the phone.
“I’ve got to look in case it’s one of them.”
When I access the mail it’s not from a foster family, or a friend. It’s from Ancestry.com. “What’s this? Probably just advertisement.”
As I begin to read, a warmth travels up my spine and down my arms. What? This can’t be.
“What? What is it?” Bristol says.
“It’s from Ancestry.com. They’re saying they found a genetic match. Sibling.” As soon as the words leave my lips the tears well. Oh God. I can’t hold it back.
Bristol takes me in her arms and holds me tight. “It’s okay. Cry. It’s so wonderful. I’m going to cry too.”
And she does. The tears run down her face and mix with mine.
“We’re a mess! Is this for real?” I choke the words out.
When I look up I see George looking in the rearview mirror. Our eyes meet and his dart away.
“Let me see!” Bristol says taking the cell from my grasp.
I’m in shock. Could it really be Anne?
“It says they found a ninety-nine percent genetic match. Oh, Sawyer. It’s her. I think it must be.”
“Ninety-nine? Wouldn’t it be a hundred percent?”
“Not necessarily. Siblings each get their unique DNA mix. But it would be close. See here,” she says. “There’s another category called Close Relative. They didn’t put you in that one. You two are identified as siblings.”
“What do I do now? Can I contact her? Do you see the name?”
“It doesn’t work like that. At least I don’t think it does. We’ll read more when we get home.”
I hadn’t realized, but we’re arriving at the Baptist church.
George turns in the first driveway and I see the group of kids and whoever’s dropping them off.
