“I don’t understand how he didn’t know. About Jay I mean. Shoot, paternity tests were done when he was born.”
“Money talked. He told me Aunt Van and Moniqa bribed a lab technician. There are no limitations to the lengths they’ll go to have things they’re way.” Bobo shook his head. “All I can say is mother and daughter got what was coming to them.”
Connie nodded her head. “It’s just a shame J has to suffer. Have you talked to Melissa?”
“I’m going to call her when we get back to your place.” They stopped and picked up Chinese food and headed to Alpharetta.
* * *
Around midnight, Bobo and Connie lay in bed together and called Melissa on her cell phone using the speakerphone. An unfamiliar voice answered. Bobo asked uncertainly, “May I speak to Mel?”
“Bobo, it’s me,” Melissa said in a hoarse voice.
“Damn, what’s wrong with you? Did the meeting go that bad?”
“You could say it did,” Melissa answered. “Michaela left here stunned with disbelief. Nina has called several times to say they’re still talking. Have you seen J?”
“Yes. He doesn’t look well at all. He’s suffering complications from an infection. I hope you can talk Michaela into coming here soon. Jeremiah looks like he’s given up.”
“Oh, my God.” Melissa’s voice broke like a bad connection on the telephone. “Should I come there?”
“No,” Connie chimed in. “You need to do what you can to get Michaela here as quickly as possible. One of his nephew’s is being tested tomorrow. It’s hard for me to comprehend with a family that large, that there isn’t a match. Mel, you’re going to have to suck it up. I know this whole ordeal is difficult for you but J needs you to be strong.”
They talked a little while longer. Melissa promised to do what she could to persuade Michaela to come to Georgia. Bobo was correct. This was not the time to fall apart. Melissa’s face reddened, and her body burned with fury when she learned of the doctored test results.
Nancy mouth was slightly ajar as she lay in the bed snoring. Melissa walked toward the bed, sat next to Nancy and patted her arm.
Nancy was startled and moved suddenly. Her eyes widened then twinkled when she saw Melissa. She smiled then reached up and caressed her granddaughter’s cheek. “This has been a one of those days, hasn’t it?” She sat up stiffly.
“I’ve had better days,’ Melissa replied dejectedly. “Are you hungry, Nana? Would you like me to order something? I can make coffee if you’d like.”
“My appetite has deserted me.” Nancy picked up a bottle of pills and ingested one, followed by a sip from her bottled water.
“I just got off the telephone with Bobo,” Melissa explained. “He went to the hospital to see Jeremiah today. He isn’t doing well. I could tell from Bobo’s voice that the visit shook him up. The hospital isn’t having any luck finding a donor. God, I wish things had been different.” A tear spilled from Melissa’s eye. “I just pray Michaela will come through. It’s too much to ask her but we don’t have a choice.” Melissa brushed the tear away.
The telephone rang. Melissa picked up the receiver. She listened spoke briefly and hung up. “That was Nina. Michaela wants to talk to me tomorrow. I have to do whatever it takes to get her to Atlanta. I don’t deserve her love but surely Jeremiah deserves to live.” Melissa‘s expression was determined.
Melissa crawled to the head of the bed and snuggled next to Nancy, trying to draw on her inner reserves much as she did as a child.
Chapter Twenty-Five
In Atlanta, Moniqa, unable to come to terms with her failed marriage, threw a tantrum of grand proportions and her bedroom reflected it. The room looked as though a tornado had spiraled through it. Vases, books and clothing lay strewn about the room. The baby-blue silk bedding was ripped in several places. The matching window treatments hung crookedly from the rod. The mirror sported a crack from Moniqa hurling a vial of perfume at it, ensuring at least seven years of bad luck for the face that stared into it many times to ask “who’s the fairest of them all?”
The door to the walk-in closet was twisted off its hinges. The servants, who Moniqa insisted call her Madame, sneaked warily out of the house during her out-of-control tirade. Mrs. Palmer, the cook, remarked, she’d seen Madame snap before but not to this extent. She’d told the cleaning woman to go home then went into the kitchen to telephone Vanessa.
* * *
When Vanessa stepped inside the mansion, the house was unnaturally silent. She’d returned a couple of days ago from vacationing in France. When Mrs. Palmer called her, babbling hysterically that Madame had gone crazy, Vanessa hadn’t believed her and told Mrs. Palmer she’d come over in the afternoon. Then she’d heard a loud shriek. It frightened her so badly, she’d told Mrs. Palmer that she was on her way.
“Moniqa,” she called as she tiptoed up the winding staircase. “Where are you?” The silence was unnerving. She arrived at the closed doorway of Moniqa’s and Jeremiah’s bedroom. Her mouth formed a perfect O. Dents dotted the door as if it had been punctured with the end of a high-heeled shoe. Vanessa’s heartbeat accelerated as she pushed the door open.
Moniqa sat naked as the day she was born, in the middle of the floor. Her hair was chopped off unevenly. Thick clumps of mascara stuck to her eyelashes. Circles of red rouge were painted wildly on her cheeks.
Hatred glinted in her eyes as she looked up at her mother.
Vanessa squatted beside her. “Baby what have you done to yourself? What’s wrong?”
Moniqa recoiled from her mother. “It’s your fault,” she hissed. “Get away from me.” She balled her fist as if to strike Vanessa.
“What are you doing?” Vanessa grabbed her daughter’s wrists. The sight of the room filled her with horror. She released Moniqa and her hand fluttered to her throat. She slid heavily to the floor.
Moniqa’s shoulders heaved uncontrollably. She leaned over and beat the floor with her fists. “I hate you, Mommy. It’s your fault I’ve lost everything. Jeremiah is dying. Jay refuses to speak to me. They don’t love me anymore.”
Vanessa rummaged through the piles of clothing that lay haphazardly on the floor. She found a gown and hastily clothed her daughter. Vanessa pulled a hostile Moniqa from the floor and led her to the bed.
Agony shone on Moniqa’s face. She keened loudly, “I need Jeremiah. Why doesn’t he love me? Jeremiah come back to me I need you.” She waved her hands in the air. Then folded in the bed like a Japanese fan.
Vanessa looked on, helpless as her daughter ranted and raved about how her life had fallen apart. She wondered if Moniqa was suffering a nervous breakdown. She looked for the telephone and couldn’t locate it. “Moni, I’ll be right back. Mommy is not going to leave you. We’ll get through this. Jeremiah and Jay will be back.”
“NO. THEY. WON’T.” Moniqa screeched. The sound was one of hopelessness. She began bucking violently on the bed.
Vanessa hurried downstairs and called Dr. Norton, her physician, and begged him to come over immediately. She was unglued by her daughter’s behavior. She tried to explain to the doctor that she feared Moniqa had lost her mind.
“She doesn’t look good, Van.” Dr. Norton shook his head from side to side. “I’m worried about her. Maybe we should check her into a health facility for a few days.”
“No,” Vanessa said, massaging her temples. Her head pulsated with stress. “It would kill her. She’s an Adams. We Adams’ are not weak. Moniqa just needs to rest for a few days. She’ll be good as new.”
Dr. Norton zipped his briefcase. “Adams or not, she’s suffering a breakdown. The room alone proves Moniqa is displaying aggressive tendencies. Who’s to say she won’t hurt herself or someone.” They walked to the sofa and sat. “Where is her husband?”
“He’s in the hospital,” Vanessa explained, swallowing hard. “He has cancer. That’s probably what brought all this on.”
Dr. Norton’s left eyebrow lifted skeptically. The African Americ
an medical community was close-knit. He’d heard about Jeremiah’s test results as well as the falsified one from nineteen years ago. “Feel free to call Moniqa’s physician. I’m sure she’d concur with my diagnosis. Your daughter needs help, Van.”
Vanessa walked the doctor to the front door, closing it behind him then wrapped her arms about her upper body as she began trembling. Shambling slowly into the living room, she felt as though tired, like she’d aged drastically in a few short hours. Vanessa sat on the sofa and cried effusively for the creature her daughter had become. And all that was lost.
It was quiet for some time. Then Moniqa howled madly, “Jeremiah,” and Vanessa flew upstairs.
* * *
Late that evening, Jay teetered indecisively outside the hospital room. He’d gone on a bender, drinking steadily since the test results revealed Jeremiah wasn’t his father. His khaki pants were rumpled and looked as though he’d slept in them. And he had. The white teeshirt had dribbles of liquor and food stains on it and looked like an abstract painting. Prickly stubble sprouted on his face. His hair hadn’t been combed in days. He stood quietly at the door, watching the man he’d thought was his father. Jay felt a twinge of alarm, was he breathing or not? He felt relief when he saw Jeremiah’s chest rise and fall.
Jeremiah opened his eyes groggily, sensing someone was in the room. He turned over in the bed, looked up and saw Jay. “Come in, son.” He tried to sit up in bed but his strength had waned.
Jay took slow laborious steps into the room. As Jeremiah watched him, his heart became heavy. He managed to find the strength to sit up.
Finally, Jay slid into a chair. He knocked over a cup in the process and attempted to pick it up.
Jeremiah held out a weak hand. “Just leave it. One of the nurses will get it.”
The two men sat in silence for a time. Jay looked morosely at his father. “Dad, I wish I were dead. I hate Mom and Grandvan.”
Jeremiah’s mouth opened and closed. He licked his dry lips. His voice sounded dry and raspy. He swallowed a couple of times to try and moisten his throat. He didn’t think Jay was up to the task of pouring him a glass of water.
“Son, I know the situation is difficult for you to comprehend. I dislike hearing you say you hate your mother. Hopefully, in time you’ll forgive her.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Jay yelled miserably. “You’re divorcing her. You can go on your merry way. I, on the other hand, am stuck with those two bitches.”
Jeremiah eyes opened wide. “Son, don’t ever refer to your mother or grandmother by that name, no matter what they’ve done. Moniqa and Vanessa were wrong in what they did but they are still your mother and grandmother.”
Jay looked at his father through bleary eyes like he was crazy. “Dad, they made a fool of you,” he said, impassioned as he waved his hands frantically. “And one of me. Who is my biological father, Dad? Do you know?” Jay massaged his head as if he were in pain.
“I don’t know, son. That’s a question only your mother can answer. You know it doesn’t matter what a piece of paper says, Jay. You have, and will always be my son. I need you more than ever.” Jeremiah’s shoulders slumped. He looked fatigued and held out his hand to his son.
Jay grasped his father’s hand tightly and held it until Jeremiah fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Melissa sat at the glass dining room table, sipping coffee and picking at an apple Danish pastry. Her mind felt splintered and raced a mile a minute. She was concerned about Jeremiah’s mental and physical state. Michaela was so shaken by the events from yesterday that Melissa was sure her daughter loathed her. She couldn’t really blame her.
Nancy was asleep. Yesterday’s events had sapped her energy. Melissa had fallen asleep in Nancy’s bed and still wearing her clothes from the day before. She held her arm up and smelled her armpit. Then pushed scraggy curls off her face. A tap sounded at the door. Melissa arose and opened it. Michaela, frowning, was at the door. Melissa moved aside to allow her entry.
Michaela’s face was crestfallen, like she lost her best friend. She walked inside. “I need to talk to you,” she said belligerently to Melissa, her voice croaky and her eyes haunted. Her thick sensual lips, so much like Jeremiah’s, trembled.
“Sure,” Melissa said softly, leading her into the dining area. Michaela sat across from Melissa and drummed her fingers on the top of the table. “If anyone had told me that Nina wasn’t my mother, I wouldn’t have believed it. I feel like I’m a victim of identity theft.”
“Hmm,” Melissa murmured. “I’m so sorry to have disrupted your life. It’s just that your biological father is terminally ill and you’re our last hope.”
“That’s what Mom told me.” Michaela nodded her head. “She said if he hadn’t become ill that my life would have continued the way it has been.”
“I really don’t know if that’s true or not. There have been times,” Melissa continued gravely, “that I’ve wanted to tell you the truth. But there are many underlying factors to this situation and I thought it best that life continue in the status quo at least for now.”
“Does my father know about me?” Michaela inquired. Her lips were slightly parted. She had a wary look on her face.
“No he doesn’t,” Melissa answered, looking away from Michaela. A blush suffused her face. She’d never felt so dishonored in her life.
“Why not?” Michaela challenged, waving her hand. “Didn’t you love him? My God, what type of woman are you? You look like you’re in your late thirties or early forties. You appear to be educated and well off. It’s not like you were a poor teen-aged mother in the ghetto. I mean look at this place. It reeks of money.”
Melissa swallowed hard. “You’re right, I could and can afford to support a child. I’ve been responsible for your financial needs from day one. I know I’m still not telling you much.” Melissa looked down at the table and expelled a deep breath. “I don’t know how to explain what happened. My family put the D in dysfunctional. My mother and sister have conspired against me my entire life. I was afraid they might do something to you.”
“Like what? What do you mean?” Michaela asked puzzled. She sat straighter in her chair and made eye contact with Melissa.
“There’s no other way to say it and I’ve avoided saying or thinking about it. My family hates me. And I don’t know why?”
Melissa opened her mouth to explain further but the words wouldn’t appear. In her mind she could answer every question.
Michaela shook her head from side to side. “If they hate you so much, then why didn’t you keep me? I could have been someone for you to love.” The young woman’s voice became fervent and expressed sadness and rejection. “This whole situation makes no sense to me,” she grumbled. “The only reason I’m here is because Mom and Daddy insisted I talk to you. I am not inclined to help you or my so-called father. My first thought was to say no to your request. But my daddy, the kindest man on this earth, wouldn’t let me. He says it’s my obligation to help my biological father. He also said I have to make my peace with you both in order to effectively live my life.” Michaela terminated the conversation. “Go ahead and make the travel arrangements. I’ll go with you.” She walked to the door and let herself out without further ado.
Melissa’s hands flew to her flushed cheeks. A ray of hope sprouted in her heart. Tears dripped from her eyes. She clasped her hands together and looked upward. Lord, please don’t let it be too late for Jeremiah. Lord, thank you for Nina and Jacob. They raised my daughter to be a strong, yet obedient woman. She stood on quaking legs and rushed to awaken Nancy and tell her the news.
Two days later with a sullen Michaela in tow, grandmother, mother and daughter headed east to Atlanta.
* * *
The roots of Vanessa’s hair looked dull and gray. She had an appointment with her stylist the day Mrs. Palmer called with the news of Moniqa’s breakdown. Vanessa’s disheveled appearance didn’t resemble in the least, the immaculate well-dr
essed woman everyone was accustomed to seeing.
She ran upstairs after Moniqa’s wild yelling of Jeremiah’s name, to find her daughter tearing at her hair and clothing. Spittle ran down her chin. Vanessa tried reasoning with Moniqa, but her daughter didn’t, or couldn’t, hear her. Then she slapped Moniqa in hopes of stopping her hysteria. Moniqa’s eyes danced insanely, she slapped her mother back.
Vanessa went limp with hopeless. Finally, she gave up trying to calm Moniqa and raced downstairs to call Dr. Norton. Her voice faltered as she informed him to make arrangements to come and get Moniqa. She conceded that maybe a hospital visit was in order.
Dr. Norton promised to get in touch with Moniqa’s doctor and have an ambulance at the house within the next hour. He mentioned a couple of facilities that had openings.
Moniqa continued to spew viperously about the injustices in her life. All Vanessa could do was sit helplessly upon the gold chaise and pray her daughter wouldn’t do bodily harm to herself.
It was a bitter pill for proud Vanessa to swallow to see her daughter fastened in restraints like an animal. Moniqa spat, “I hate you,” as she was carried out of her bedroom. After the ambulance departed, Vanessa fell upon Moniqa’s bed and caressed the pillow where her daughter’s head had lain. Strands of Moniqa’s hair had drifted on the bed covering.
Vanessa felt a flicker of terror and her heart beat erratically. One hand shaded her watery eyes and other lay limply across her heart. She wished for a brief moment that Nate were alive to help undo the chaos she and Moniqa’s lives had become.
Later, Vanessa dried her eyes and rose from the bed to call her parents and Valerie. They promised to be in Atlanta the next day. Vanessa called Mrs. Palmer and asked her to return to the house tomorrow and tidy it up. Then Vanessa put her designer sunshades on, took another look around Moniqa bedroom, then got into her car and drove home.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bobo’s face lit up like a Christmas tree at the sight of Melissa, Michaela, and Nancy exiting the plane. He had to contain himself from running to them as he quickly strolled to them. Connie ran beside him trying to keep pace with his long strides.
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