In the acknowledgments of THE FOURTH HOUSE, I mention my friend, V (which is not code for anything — it’s the name he really goes by. Seriously.), who discovered late in life that he had been adopted and whose tale, along with a myriad of others, helped inspire the novel.

V, unlike most people, has had three mothers. The first was, of course, the first one he laid eyes on when he was just a little child. Unfortunately, she died young, leaving V and his father alone. After a time, V’s father began dating again and met Margaret, a wonderful, sweet, and vivacious lady whom he eventually married.

When V was nearly out of high school, Margaret officially adopted him. It was unnecessary and perhaps even a little silly, all things considered, but it meant a lot to the three of them and it was vintage Margaret to do so.

As he approached his 40th birthday or thereabouts, V, much to the chagrin of his father, came to discover that he had been adopted. It had been his first mother’s final wish that V never know of his status, for she feared that it would make him feel “different.” But in the face of mounting evidence, V’s father had no choice but to concede to the facts.

Like many adoptees, V set about trying to find his birth mother. The adoption had been of the “back alley” variety where a scared young girl simply wanted to avoid all of the red tape and merely “solve her problem” as quickly and efficiently as possible. A suitable, loving family was found and that was that. She knew nothing more.

Unlike most adoptees in such a situation, V struck it lucky with each and every turn of his search. Expecting this sojourn to take years, it ended up taking a matter of days, as he found that his birth mother lived only a scant few miles away. He tracked her down, met her, and formed and continues to have a relationship with her.

At the time, I wondered aloud how Margaret felt about all of this, but she was graceful, encouraging, dignified, and full of love, knowing full well that nothing could come between her and her adopted son, V, nor did it.

On Super Bowl Sunday, Margaret, a lifelong Giants fan, passed away after a long bout with Alzheimer’s. During her illness, V was her primary caregiver, moving her into his already crowded house that he shares with his wife and his four beautiful children.
While many people might feel sorry for themselves if given a life such as this, V is a very spiritually centered person who feels instead that while most kids are given one mother, he had the blessing of having been given three. Two are now gone, but one still remains.

Peace, V. Peace, Margaret. Much love to you both.

Kerry