The next morning, I woke up before my alarm.
I had barely slept.
Rebecca's letter was still on my bedside table.
Beside it was the photograph of Emily and me as babies.
I picked it up and studied it again.
Two little girls.
One mother.
One father.
And a history that had been hidden from us for most of our lives.
My phone rang at 8:17.
It was Emily.
"Sarah, did the clinic contact you?"
I sat up.
"Not directly. They spoke to our attorney."
"They found something."
Her voice sounded nervous.
I looked at the clock.
"Did they tell you what?"
"No. But our attorney wants us both there this morning."
I got dressed without eating breakfast.
On the way out, I placed Rebecca's letter inside my handbag.
I wanted to keep it close.
Emily was waiting outside the clinic when I arrived.
She was holding two coffees.
She handed me one.
Neither of us drank much.
We went inside together.
Dr. Harrison was waiting in the consultation room.
Our attorney, Mr. Collins, was sitting beside him.
There were several documents on the desk.
One was inside a clear plastic folder.
Another had a faded identification label.
Dr. Harrison greeted us.
"Thank you for coming in."
I sat down.
Emily placed her handbag beside her chair.
Mr. Collins opened his notebook.
"Before we begin, I want to explain that the clinic has located an archived donor record that may be relevant to the investigation."
I leaned forward.
"Is it Daniel's record?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
Dr. Harrison turned his computer toward us.
There was a scanned document on the screen.
It contained a donor identification number, a date, and several handwritten notes.
I recognized the name immediately.
Daniel Whitmore.
My stomach tightened.
Emily moved closer to the screen.
"That's our father's name."
Dr. Harrison nodded.
"That's why this document requires careful examination."
He explained that the archived record was much older than the donor profile we had been shown when choosing our donor.
The dates did not match.
The identifying information was incomplete.
And the file contained a reference to a previous medical investigation.
I looked at him.
"What investigation?"
He opened another document.
It was a laboratory note.
Several lines had been marked for review.
I couldn't understand all the medical language, but I recognized one phrase.
Identity verification.
"Why was that written there?" I asked.
Dr. Harrison explained that the note suggested someone had questioned the identity attached to the original sample.
That was all he could confirm at that point.
Emily folded her arms.
"So somebody may have used the wrong name?"
"That is one possibility."
"And somebody may have used the wrong sample?"
"That is another possibility we are investigating."
I felt my fingers tighten around the coffee cup.
For months, we had believed Daniel was a healthy thirty-five-year-old donor.
We had been given a profile.
We had completed the procedures.
We had trusted the information.
Now we were learning that the records might have been connected to a man whose identity had been questioned years earlier.
Our father.
I looked at Mr. Collins.
"Can the clinic tell us who provided the sample?"
He explained that the investigation was ongoing.
The clinic needed to establish the chain of custody and compare the archived material with the genetic samples already collected.
I was beginning to understand why everyone was being so careful.
One wrong conclusion could change everything.
Dr. Harrison then explained the medical concern.
Because Emily and I were full biological sisters, the identity of the biological father of our babies mattered greatly.
If the donor was unrelated to us, the children would share a biological father with each other, as we had originally intended.
But if the donor was also our biological father, the genetic situation would be very different.
I looked at Emily.
She had gone completely still.
"You're saying the donor could be our father?"
Dr. Harrison nodded slowly.
"We cannot establish that from the archived document alone."
I felt sick.
The room seemed smaller.
Emily placed her hand over her stomach.
"Please tell us what this means for the babies."
The doctor explained that a biological relationship between a mother and the sperm donor could significantly increase the chance of certain inherited conditions.
It would require specialist genetic assessment.
He did not tell us that the babies were sick.
He did not say that they would definitely develop a disorder.
He said we needed accurate information before assessing their individual risks.
I appreciated his honesty.
But it didn't make the situation easier.
After the meeting, our attorney asked us to wait while he spoke privately with the clinic.
Emily and I walked into the hallway.
She leaned against the wall.
"Sarah, what if it's true?"
I looked at her.
"I don't know."
"What if Daniel really is our father?"
I couldn't answer.
She began crying.
I put my arms around her.
We stood there for a long time.
Neither of us knew what to say.
Then my phone vibrated.
It was a message from Margaret.
She had written that she wanted to speak to us as soon as possible.
There was something else she had remembered about Daniel.
I showed the message to Emily.
She looked at me.
"Do you think she knows?"
"I think we need to ask her."
We left the clinic together.
But before we reached the parking area, Dr. Harrison called us back.
He had received an update from the laboratory.
The original archived sample had been located.
It was being prepared for comparison with the newer records.
He explained that the next results might help establish whether the names in the documents belonged to the same biological person.
I nodded.
"How long?"
"Hopefully, not long."
I looked at Emily.
She was holding Rebecca's letter.
For the first time, I wondered whether our mother had known that this could happen.
And whether she had spent the last years of her life trying to keep us away from a truth that was now growing inside both of us.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: My Mother Finally Told Us What Happened Before We Were Separated, and the Man in the Old Photograph Became More Than a Memory
The Promise Two Little Girls Made Twenty-Five Years Ago Was About to Change Both Their Lives Forever
Part 9 of 20
