Joan shrugged a shoulder. “Chile, that ain’t no surprise or secret. There’re plenty of folks down south masquerading as white folks when they’re just a black as any of us in this room.”
Donna nodded her head in agreement. She went on to tell them about a family member who surfaced to collect his rightful share of the Wahl fortune. The individual had old diaries and love letters written by Patrick’s grandfather to a young black woman who worked for the family. As the story goes, the affair produced an illegitimate baby, Patrick’s father. The baby held no resemblance to his African American roots. Because of all this, all parties agreed that Patrick’s grandfather’s barren wife would raise the child as her own. The affair continued, producing another child. This time it was a baby girl, who bore her mother’s African American features. The man showing up demanding his rightful inheritance was the baby girl’s grandson.
Stunned, Karen asked, “So other than some old diaries and love letters, did they prove this by DNA testing?
“Absolutely,” Donna answered shaking her head. “Chuck, that’s the man’s name, and his four other siblings along with Patrick and his two brothers were tested. According to the results they’re related.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” Beverly chimed in. “This is too much excitement for an old lady.”
Beatrice grinned, nervously toying with her pearls. She had some news she was itching to share, too. “Well I guess now might be a good time to tell everyone… I have a boyfriend.”
“What!” Everyone screamed, staring wide-eyed at a blushing Beatrice.
Epilogue
Sixteen Months Later. Early Saturday Morning
Karen snuggled further into the fluffy pillows. Flashes of last night’s passionate lovemaking danced behind her eyelids. Visions of sweaty, tangled limbs sent a shiver down her spine. Rolling over, her hand grazed the spot next to her. It was cold. Dom must have left the bed some time ago.
The house was unusually quiet for this time of morning. Ashley and Kyle had gone over to their grandparents’ house. This had become a monthly ritual since Donna and Patrick had decided to buy Karen’s home. It seemed at every turn they were headed back to Philly for some function or another. It was Patrick who suggested they buy the home after it had been on the market for over six months with no buyer in sight.
It was a win-win situation for everyone. Karen didn’t have to continue to pay a monthly mortgage, and the doting grandparents enjoyed being close by their grandchildren. Of course the couple still held on to their little cabin in rural Virginia for private getaways.
One eye fluttered open as she peeked at the clock on the nightstand. Seven-thirty. Pulling herself up, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She could have stayed in the bed longer, but she and Dom wanted to go shopping early for Aiden Warrington, Ava and Langston’s soon to be one year old son’s birthday. Sliding off the bed, she padded to the bathroom. The sweet aroma off hazelnut coffee tickled her nose.
The water droplets on the glass shower door told her Dom had already showered. Too bad he hadn’t awakened her. An early morning shower with her man would have been the perfect start to her day. A smile curved her lips. Cleaning their bodies wouldn’t have been the only thing going on.
The sudden rumbling in her belly quickened her pace as she took care of her morning needs before jumping in the shower and getting dressed.
Padding down the stairs in her bare feet, Karen’s stomach growled louder. The aroma of turkey bacon co-mingled with hazelnut. The combination of the two had her salivating. She quickened her steps, her hunger pangs screaming to be satisfied.
Dom didn’t have to turn around to know she was behind him. The floral notes from the Country Chic shower gel and lotion she wore wafted beneath his nostrils.
“Morning, baby,” Karen cooed, as she moved closer to the kitchen table where he sat drinking a glass of orange juice.
Looking up, Dom grinned at his wife. “Morning, baby.”
Giggling, Karen swatted Dom’s thick bicep. “I wasn’t talking to you, silly.”
“Ouch! Girl, you don’t have to be so mean!”
Karen ignored Dom as she moved closer. “I was talking to you,” she cooed, taking the seven month old baby boy from Dom’s lap. Kissing his chubby cheek, she gave her baby boy her brightest smile, dimples and all. “Hi, Noah. Momma loves you.”
Each time she looked at her youngest son she marveled at how much he looked like his father. From his bronze coloring, to his dark, piercing eyes, to his dark curly locks, Noah was Dom through and through. The only thing he had of hers was a set of deep dimples when he smiled or laughed.