The Other Side of Divine

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  But she also knew she wasn’t going to push things too far by insisting to Andrew, as she’d done a few months ago, that he have a paternity test done. She’d said it already. Andrew had flat-out rejected the notion. So she would just pray that if there was even a remote chance she might be right, the truth would somehow come to light and save her son from possible deeper heartbreak down the road.

  But for now, she couldn’t honestly say, not with certainty, one way or the other. So she was going to just keep her trap shut.

  Chapter 32

  Behold, ye trust in lying words, that cannot profit.

  —Jeremiah 7:8

  By May 17—three weeks after giving birth to Braylen Ryker Holyfield (two first names that had left her mother-in-law scratching her head as she wondered aloud and to their faces why she and Andrew had decided to name their son that), the originally light-skinned little boy was quickly turning darker shades of brown. Paris knew she had to do something to quiet even her own thoughts that were beginning to scream doubts about her baby’s paternity who was no longer the color of she and Andrew but increasingly closer to Darius’s dark-brown skin tone. She needed to get a DNA home kit in a hurry.

  With her mother-in-law visiting that day, she decided to run to the store, telling Paula she had to go pick up something important.

  “Back in my day, older women wouldn’t even let us go out of the house until our babies were at least a month old. Most times they insisted it be six weeks,” Paula said, cradling an almost sleep Braylen in her arms. “My mother used to say we young folks were going to catch it when that stuff caught up with us in our old age. I’m seeing some of those older folks were right.”

  “I’m not going to be gone long. I just have something I absolutely have to get,” Paris said, car keys in hand as she headed for the door to the garage.

  “I told you that’s what I’m here for. I don’t mind going and getting whatever you need. Just make me a list, and I’ll be happy to get it and bring it back,” Paula said, glancing down at the baby as she spoke softly now.

  “I’m not sure which one I want,” Paris said, being as evasive as possible. She wasn’t completely lying. She’d checked online to see which DNA kit was recommended and rated the most reliable. If she was going to do this, she needed to make sure the results would be of the highest standards available. She’d thought about asking her father to pick up the kit for her since he was the only person who knew the truth (other than Johnnie Mae, who she didn’t count in the number since she’d only gone to her for counseling), but she knew he wasn’t good at finding things in a store which he considered women’s work. Besides, she’d hate for that kind of news to get out if someone saw him purchase the kit and report on it. It was her father who’d suggested something like this. For now, it seemed to be her best shot with the least amount of casualties.

  Paris left, only picking up that one item so she wouldn’t be out in the air for too long. She didn’t need Paula saying anything to Andrew to cause him to grill her about her little rendezvous outside the house.

  Honestly surprised Paris had been gone for only twenty minutes, Paula said, “What happened? Did you get out of the driveway and change your mind?”

  “No. But I do respect your words of wisdom and opinion. I told you I wasn’t going shopping; I just needed to pick up something important.”

  “I still don’t understand why you just didn’t let me run and get it for you. But that’s young folks for you,” Paula said. “Well, the baby is asleep. So if I were you, I’d try and sneak me in a little nap as well. I’m out of here.” She hugged Paris and left.

  All of the kits sold for around thirty dollars, but that was just the cost for the kit. If she wanted fast results she’d have to pay an additional cost to send it overnight as opposed to using the preaddressed envelope provided using standard delivery. She would also have to pay an additional one hundred and thirty dollars for the lab fee, and that was if it wasn’t a rush job. If she used a credit card to prepay or sent a money order, she could expect the results in about seven days. If she chose any other way, like writing a personal check, she was looking at a turnaround of three to four weeks.

  The good part was that she had the option of them sending the results (discreetly of course) back by mail or going online if she set up an account with an ID and password. She could also call a number and, using a special code, be told the results over the phone. The kit contained three swabs: one for the subject in question (in her case, her baby boy), one for the father, and if desired, one for the mother. She saw no reason to swab her own cheek and waste money when she knew she was the mother.

  Now she just needed to decide whether she should contact Darius and get him to agree to this DNA test. If she did it that way, they could prayerfully disqualify him, which would only mean that Andrew was without a doubt Braylen’s father. But the mere thought of Darius caused her stomach to turn. He was such a jerk. And knowing him, he most likely wouldn’t agree to it even though this was much cheaper than her earlier idea of a prenatal paternity test, and decisively cheaper than going to court, where he’d likely have to pay for the whole test, which was triple this cost.

  Wanting to skip the drama at this point, she made a decision. She would swab Braylen’s cheek. And when Andrew came home, she would . . . she would . . .

  What? What would she do? Ask him to let her swab the inside of his cheek for fun? Like he’d actually fall for that. He was a lawyer, for Pete’s sake. He knew the process used in DNA testing. He’d immediately know what she was up to. Then everything Paris had heard his mother say to him would flood into his mind. And he would know that even she had at least some reason to question the paternity of her child.

  So for Braylen’s sake and Andrew’s she couldn’t do that to either of them. If Andrew was to ever hear the truth, it would be the truth and not just a need to know what the truth might be.

  After Andrew came home and held his son, after he’d told Paris just how happy he was, and how much he loved her. After he vowed that he would always do what he needed to take care of the two of them. After he’d fallen sound asleep and Paris felt pretty sure that nothing would likely awaken him, she took the Q-tip swab provided in the DNA kit and swabbed the inside of his right cheek.

  And if anybody were ever to say that she wasn’t sorry for any of her past actions, they didn’t see how caring and patient she’d been in pulling off this feat, all because she didn’t want to unnecessarily hurt her husband if she didn’t have to.

  After she finished, she quietly slid out of the bed with the swab in hand and placed it in its own plastic bag labeled for the father. She put the two individual bags with the DNA of child and potential father inside the pre-labeled package. She sighed, knowing she was closer to putting the question of Braylen’s paternity to bed.

  She put the package somewhere safe until it could be sent off in the morning, then quietly crawled back into bed and laid down just in time for Braylen to cry and cause her to have to get up again.

  And through all of that, Andrew never moved, not even once.

  Chapter 33

  The letter which ye sent unto us hath been plainly read before me.

  —Ezra 4:18

  It had been a week and Paris was looking for the DNA results to arrive by mail (as she’d checked off) no later than May 24. So after two days of it not being there, she called to follow up on it.

  It took a few transferrings of her calls, but she finally reached someone who could help her. Yes, it had indeed been mailed, and should have arrived on Monday as their turnaround had been two days after having received her package. A woman named Marie reminded her that the outside of the envelope would be plain as to be discreet and wouldn’t contain any identifying words to tie it back to their company, just in case she’d received it and mistakenly trashed it as junk mail.

  Paris thought back, but there hadn’t been anything that had come resembling what the woman was describing. Still, she decided since sh
e hadn’t thrown out any junk mail yet, she would definitely go back and check. She asked Marie if she could be given the information over the phone now and was told because she’d originally checked for mail only and had specifically requested it be disclosed that way, she could request it differently but there were safety measures she’d have to go through in order to do that.

  “If you’d like to give it a few more days and then if it doesn’t arrive, we’ll be happy to proceed with the required paperwork to disclose the information in a different manner than originally selected,” Marie said.

  At first Paris was put out at possibly having to jump through hoops to get the results she’d paid for. But when she calmed down and thought it through, she could see where that was a necessary level of protection for someone who might try to deviously circumvent the process. She would give it another week, and if it hadn’t arrived by then, she’d feel confident something had happened and initiate necessary steps to receive the results another way.

  Tuesday, the following week, she had an appointment for her six weeks’ checkup. It was hard to believe Braylen was already six weeks old. He was growing up so fast. Paris’s mother was supposed to come over and watch Braylen while she went to the doctor, but her mother woke up with a sore throat and a slight fever. Paris told her not to worry, she had another alternative, and asked her mother to take care of herself and get well soon.

  Paris called Andrew, but he couldn’t get away. So she decided she’d just take Braylen with her. The doorbell rang just as she was rushing to get him ready.

  “Paula? What are you doing here?” Paris asked her mother-in-law as she held Braylen securely against her shoulder, bouncing him to keep him quiet as she spoke.

  “I hear you’re in need of a babysitter for a few hours. I’m here to offer my services,” Paula said.

  “Andrew called you?” Paris said. “He shouldn’t have bothered you.”

  “Why not? You need someone to watch my grandbaby while you go to the doctor for your checkup, and I was free to come over.” Paula reached over and lovingly took Braylen from Paris. “Look at Grandma’s big boy. Look at you,” she said to Braylen. “Such a big boy! Such a big boy! Yes, you are!”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. You just go on and don’t worry about me and Braylen. We’re going to have so much fun. Aren’t we, Braylen? Aren’t we?” She held him up in the air and smiled as she twisted his body from side to side. He smiled. “Look a’ there,” she said to Paris. “He just smiled at me.”

  “I told you that he smiles, but you didn’t believe me. You said it was gas.” Paris closed the door.

  “Okay, Paris.” Paula grinned.

  “I’m running late, so I’m really glad you came. It’s not as easy as it looks trying to get yourself ready and a baby, too. And I didn’t even get to the putting him in the car seat part and having to take him out when I arrive. You’re a lifesaver. I truly appreciate this. I just need to run and get my purse, and I’ll be out of here.”

  Paris trotted up the stairs and just as quickly returned with her purse on her shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as I’m done!” she yelled as she disappeared to the garage.

  Paula walked around the den with Braylen, singing several rounds of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.” She was on the “quack, quack” part when the doorbell rang. “Now who do you think that could be?” Paula said as she and Braylen went to answer the door.

  “I have a package for you,” the postwoman said. “It appears one of our machines mangled the original envelope so we had to put it in this one. It was apparently already late and a trace had been placed on it stating it was urgent. So I was asked to personally deliver it to this address.”

  Paula took the envelope. “Thanks. I’ll be sure and tell them. I’m grandma here babysitting my new grandbaby.”

  “Oh, he’s a cutie,” the postwoman said, leaning in closer to Braylen and smiling. “Who does he favor? His mother or his father?”

  “Thank you. I suppose if I was pressed, I’d say he sort of favors his father’s father a little. They’re closer to the same skin tone and maybe have a similar nose,” Paula said, looking down at Braylen and seeing possible hints of Andrew’s father, who’d left them high and dry back when Andrew was a mere baby.

  “Well, you two have a good day.”

  “Same to you,” Paula said, baby in her arm while holding the white envelope addressed to Holyfield in her other hand.

  Three hours later, Paula heard the garage door rise and then go back down.

  “That must be your mother coming back,” Paula said, standing up with Braylen and going into the kitchen to greet Paris.

  The door from the garage to the kitchen opened and closed. Andrew strolled in with his briefcase in hand.

  “Hi, Mom.” Andrew leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Hi, there, Braylen. How’s daddy’s little man? Did you have fun with Grandma today? Did you?” Andrew set his briefcase on the floor, carefully took Braylen from his mother, and placed him on his shoulder. “Paris’s car isn’t in the garage. Did she go somewhere after she came back from the doctor’s or has she not gotten back yet?”

  “She hasn’t gotten back yet.”

  “How long has she been gone?”

  “I guess three . . . maybe four hours, but who’s counting? You know how it can be with doctor visits. And when it’s a doctor who’s on call to deliver babies at any moment, a doctor’s visit can be a true nightmare. You may be there in the waiting room, and the doctor either has to cancel or postpone your appointment to take care of a patient who’s not planning on waiting for the next available time slot on schedule. I wouldn’t worry too much, though. I’m just glad you called me to come over and take care of little Braylen. I’d hate for him to have had to be there all this time.”

  “Well, I thank you for being there when I called and willingly agreeing to come do this.” Andrew glanced down at a now sleeping Braylen. “He’s out like a light.”

  “Yeah, I suppose I wore the little fellow out. He’ll probably sleep a couple of hours.”

  “I’m going to go lay him down.” Andrew walked slowly and carefully and went and put Braylen in his crib.

  When Andrew came back downstairs (minus his suit coat now), his mother had her purse on her shoulder and was standing at the front door. “Well, I’m out of here, unless you have somewhere you need to go, in which case, I can stay longer.”

  “Oh, no. I’m good. I’m home for the rest of the day. Do you know if Paris got the mail before she left?”

  “I don’t. But, there was a special package brought to the door.” Paula went and got it and handed it to him. “A postwoman—I love saying that—said their equipment chewed up the original envelope so they had to put it in a new one.”

  He turned the large white envelope over in his hand. “Is that why there’s no return address information on the outside envelope?”

  “That’s what I got from her. I think it was nice of them though to send someone out special to deliver it. Whenever something like that has ever happened with my mail, they just stick it in the mailbox with a stamped message that the original enveloped encountered ‘machine’ problems. I suppose that’s the difference between living in a nice neighborhood and where we came from: They send a postal worker to bring one piece of mail they feel might be important when they mess up.” Paula grabbed Andrew by his collar and pulled him down toward her, giving him a quick peck on the cheek, interrupting him just as he was peeling back the gummed flap of the envelope.

  Standing upright now, he stopped and looked hard at the information he’d pulled out of the envelope. “Mom, hold up a second.”

  Paula frowned, tilting her head trying to see. “What is it?”

  Andrew was also frowning. “This.” He was scanning the chewed-up envelope that had no identifying relevant return address markers on the outside of the original envelope. But because part of the envelope was ripped away at the top, it exp
osed the letterhead to the contents inside the mangled envelope.

  “What about it?”

  “First off, this isn’t addressed to me. It’s addressed to Paris.”

  Paula shrugged. “I didn’t know. It just had Holyfield on the outside. So you can give it to her when she gets here and tell her what the postwoman said.”

  “Are you sure a postal worker brought this? This isn’t some kind of joke or something is it?” Andrew asked.

  “Well, she was wearing an official post-office-looking shirt. However, I didn’t ask her for any ID or anything. And she was driving a compact white car that looks like the ones I’ve seen some postal workers drive, when they’re not delivering neighborhood mail, that is.” Paula moved in closer. “What is it?”

  “A part of the envelope was torn off and is exposing the company where it seems to have come from.”

  She frowned. “And—?”

  “And it appears to have come from, of all places, a DNA company.”

  “Well, maybe Paris is doing some research on her roots or something. You know, like that professor Henry Louis Gates did on PBS with famous people like Oprah and those others. A lot of people are doing that these days, you know.”

  Andrew shook his head. “She’s never said anything about wanting to do that nor shown any interest. Mom, months ago, you brought up the idea that the baby Paris was carrying might not be mine. I scoffed at that. But truthfully, on that same day you also said the baby was a boy and that turned out to be true.”

  Paula hunched her shoulders. “Well, I had a fifty-fifty shot of being right.”

  “That’s true. But you also said he would weigh seven pounds eight ounces. Now that’s not something one can predict so accurately, but you were right on the money,” Andrew said.

  “It was a number that just popped up in my head.” Paula sighed. “Listen, Drew. I know I was the one who raised the question about Paris and the baby, but—”