Adopted War Babe ...continued - Part 3

So, I waited for my husband to come home.  I was really nervous.  Once he was home I told him what was going on and after dinner we sat down with the phone in my hand.  I dialed the number I was given.  After a couple of rings and woman answered. "Hello?".  She had a German accent I could tell immediately.
"Hi, my name is Pam Berry," I stammered. "I wonder if I can ask you a few questions?"  She was silent. "Does February 27, 1954 mean anything to you?" I asked.  She was quiet for a moment and then said, in very broken English, "How did you get this number?".  She seemed not only surprised but a bit upset. "I was trying to find out who my birth parents were because I was adopted," I said.  I am working with some people from the Alma society and they helped me to locate information that could be my birth family.  I was born in Goeppingen, Germany in a catholic hospital to a German woman named Elisabeth Schulz.  “Does any of that sound familiar to you?
     Well, she was quiet. “Look,” I said, “Let’s hang up and let this sink in. Maybe I will call back in n a couple of days. Would that be ok with you?”
“Ok, that would be fine,” she said. “You know, they never let me see the baby. I asked a nurse, and she said that she had blond hair and blue eyes.”
“That’s me!” I said.
     A few weeks later, I called again.  I don’t recall the exact conversation, but I was even more nervous and excited as I had been before.   It was 1991, and because we had found her by her husband’s obituary, I knew that her husband had just passed the year before. She answered right away, as we had set a day and time that I would call back.  Here is what I remember from what was said:
          She told me about being a house frau and even told me the name of the family.(I wrote it down but have lost the name, boo me!)  She told me that my birth father had been an American solider whom she had dated about six months and that he was tall, dark and handsome. She said she didn’t remember his name (yeah right!) You see, she continued, the Army threw dances every weekend so that the GIs and the German girls could dance and have fun together. She paused during our conversation and then in a few sentences that I DO remember she continued. (Again, in that thick German accent)  “I remember standing behind the door!” She said quietly. “We were behind the door at the dance, I told him that I was pregnant. He took out his wallet and tried to hand me money to have it taken care of. I said no.  I never saw him again.”
“Thank you!”  I said.