Baby Love(112)

I was quiet for several moments, watching Preston gum and slobber on her graham cracker.

"Is there something that you wish to ask me Tylar?"

My father was watching me; a fairly intuitive person but then I supposed in his profession it was almost a necessity.

"I don't know how to word this without offending you," I commented quietly.

"Don't worry about offending me. Perhaps I deserve to be offended - and a lot more. Ask me anything."

I flushed trying my best to pick my words carefully.

"You've already told me that you fell in love with my mother the first night you were together; you admitted to her that if you could change things before you married your fiancé you would have."

"That's correct," he stated waiting for more.

"So - why didn't you call off the wedding? If you really loved my mom why wouldn't you have done that?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that Tylar. I had a history with Olivia. I had made a commitment to her; our plans were in place to build a life together. And there is one very important factor that you have left out."

"What factor?" I asked.

"Your mother had given me no indication that she cared for me, let alone loved me. They were words she wrote in a diary of sorts that I didn't see for decades - after it was too late."

"If you had known my mother loved you - if she had said those words back to you in 1989, would it have changed anything?"

"That's not a fair question Tylar given what I know now I cannot answer it objectively, I'm sorry."

"One final question Dad. Did your marriage to Olivia boost your appointment to the federal bench?"

He looked at me and was clearly bothered by the content of my question.

"In all truthfulness Tylar, I have to say that having the backing of such a powerful and prestigious family as my wife's certainly didn't hurt. Was that my sole purpose in marrying her? I can honestly say that it was not."

I looked at him for several moments; I assessed what I saw and what my instincts so far in life had taught me. I believed him.





CHAPTER 44



The drive to Vidalia took less than two hours. My dad had arranged for a limo to take us. Preston was kept entertained by the assortment of toys we had brought along with us. I had fed her before we left in hopes that she wouldn't start her 'num-numming' on the road. I wouldn't have been comfortable nursing her around my father.

Vidalia was a small town with less than five thousand residents. It was quaint and had an attractive river walk along the banks of the Mississippi river. The sign that welcomed travelers into town boasted Vidalia as being the 'sister' city of Natchez, Mississippi directly across the river.

Miss Trinity LaFleur owned a shop in the small downtown area. It was located in an old brick building on the end of the main thoroughfare. My father opened the door of the shop for me and a bell overhead tinkled our entrance.

The shop was not well-lit and had a musty smell to it. The shelving that adorned all of the walls displayed a variety of homemade pottery in various shapes and sizes. They were hand-painted with exquisite landscaped scenes of the river and the town itself. There were glass cases that held a variety of small potted herb plants; various seed mixtures were bagged and labeled. There were books for herbal remedies and holistic healing.

"A little bit of everything it appears," my father commented as we headed to the back of the store.

The aisles were narrow so my main concern was keeping Preston from reaching out to touch the colorful pottery.

A door from behind the glass counter creaked open and a light-skinned black woman appeared.

"May I help you?"

"Are you Miss LaFleur?" my father asked.

"We are expected."

"Oh yes," she replied with a faint smile. "Judge Tylar and Mrs. Sinclair, please come around through here. Trinity is in the parlor."

We followed her down a hallway and entered the room she had gestured to us. She closed the door behind us going back to the storefront.

Miss Trinity LaFleur was not as I had expected. She appeared to be in her early forties which would have made her fairly young at the time of my birth. She was of Creole dissent; dark eyes, hair and creamy pale skin. Her ear lobes boasted multiple piercings from which a variety of long, dangling earrings danced about sounding musical. She had a very exotic look about her.

She came toward us and I noticed she was dressed in an ankle-length silk caftan. She wore socks underneath her laced up leather sandals. Her focus was immediately turned to me as I clutched the baby close.

"You have the essence of Marla," she stated simply taking my free hand into hers.

"It was there at your birth and it still remains."

I wasn't sure exactly what that meant but I decided to take it as a compliment.

"Thank you Miss LaFleur."

"Please call me Trinity. Your mama and I were once very close. We remain close in the spirit world. I assisted in your birthing more than twenty years past. You were born behind a veil. That is always a good sign."

She turned her attention to my father, extending her hand in greeting.

"Judge Tylar," she said, "It is nice to put a face to the voice on the phone. Both of you please sit down."