I Am Moore (All That & Moore Book 1)

by Celeste Granger

  “Thank you,” came out much wispier than she intended. She wanted to show her legal dominance at the moment. But with a million-watt smile held behind beautifully articulated lips, Evan was able to effectively reduce Emery’s moment of pride to the pantings of a schoolgirl with a crush.

  “You should celebrate,” Evan said, leaning in and whispering close to Emery’s ear. Her eyes closed as the sensual scent of his cologne wafted into her nostrils. She felt the warmness of his breath against her neck and a trail of shivers coursed through her. Evan’s smile broadened as Emery tried to reign in her reaction. He felt it too, no matter how much she tried to deny it.

  “I will,” Emery said, easing her hand from his, and beat a hasty retreat to the safety of her side of the aisle. Emery didn’t want to tell Evan that her celebration would be delayed because she had a family dinner to attend. That wasn’t his business.

  Chapter Two

  Emery was still on cloud nine by the time she pulled into her mother’s driveway. Thank goodness for the triple-wide drive or Emery would have had to park on the street. She could tell by the number of cars that she was the last to arrive. Not wanting to delay her entrance, Emery trotted towards the front door of the mini-mansion her parents lived in. Emery rang the doorbell and waited for a response. With all seven of her sisters plus her parents, Emery didn’t expect her wait to be long. And it wasn’t.

  “Hey there, my darling daughter.” It was their father Cecil Moore.

  “Hey daddy,” Emery replied. Her father always greeted her the same way. He had a special personalized greeting for each of his daughters. When Emery crossed the threshold into the family home, Cecil pulled her into a warm hug. Emery reciprocated. She loved her dad, without a doubt. Being the oldest girl, Emery had a special bond with her father. She was a daddy’s girl. Cecil held on to Emery especially long; swaying back and forth as he squeezed her tight.

  “Everything ok,” Emery asked as they separated.

  “Yep, just fine,” Cecil replied.

  Lifting onto her toes, Emery kissed her father on the check and proceeded to the family room where she knew everyone would be waiting.

  “It’s about time.”

  Emery didn’t even have to look up to know who said it. Crossing the room, Emery found her mom and bent down to hug her.

  “Nice to see you, too, Daphne.” Emery scoffed, casting a hooded eye in Daphne’s direction.

  It was all in good fun and the two hugged each other as Emery continued to make her rounds.

  “I thought you all would be eating by now,” Emery said, finally reaching the last sister.

  “Mom insisted that we wait,” Ivory, the youngest Moore girl replied. “But you know Aubrey, she was gunning to start without you.”

  “Sure was,” Aubrey replied as she stood up from the sofa and began moving towards the dining room. “Ain’t no shame in my game.”

  “We know, Aubrey,” Trinity replied. “We know.”

  Aubrey was third from the youngest and Trinity was next to the last Moore girl. They both had their chances to be the youngest; longer than any of their older sisters. They were spoiled in Emery’s eyes. The rest of the family followed suit toward the dining room. Their mother, Felicia, headed in the opposite direction towards the kitchen.

  “Mom, you need some help,” Kennedy asked moving in that direction before her mother could reply. She was the second to the oldest and was a mommy’s girl. When Emery was hanging out with dad, watching sports or tinkering on his old car, Kennedy could be found in the kitchen with their mother, learning how to cook, bake, and anything else her mom had her hands in. All the family recipes from three generations of Moore women were handed down to Kennedy. Cooking was her passion and Kennedy was a renowned chef, with her own restaurant in the heart of downtown Atlanta.

  “You are always welcome in my kitchen,” Felicia replied, reaching into the cabinet and pulling down dinnerware. Washing her hands and drying them with a towel hanging from the oven handle, Kennedy checked the rack of lamb. Dawning oven mitts, Kennedy pulled it out and set it on top of the stove.

  “Smells amazing,” Kennedy replied, leaning into the steam wafting from the entrée. Taking off the gloves, Kennedy grabbed a ladle and began to douse the rack in its own juices. When she heard a crash behind her, Kennedy spun around.

  “Ugh,” Felicia groaned, bending down to start picking up what was left of her glass bowl.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes, just clumsy,” Felicia replied; shaking her head.

  “Let me help you with that,” Felicia offered as she crossed the kitchen to retrieve the broom and dustpan. Felicia was still shaking her head in disgust when Kennedy returned.

  “Ouch!”

  “Mom!”

  Kennedy abandoned the broom and dustpan and went to her mother’s side. Felicia’s hand was cut and bleeding heavily.

  “Let’s get you to the sink,” Kennedy instructed, wrapping one arm around her mother’s waist and helping her to her feet. The two crossed the short distance to the sink and Kennedy turned on the spigot to tepid. Felicia eased her injured hand into the water.

  “SSSS,” she moaned as the water stung the cut area. Once the blood as rinsed away, Kennedy helped her mother to a kitchen chair and then walked down the back hallway to get the emergency kit from the bathroom.

  “You guys okay in there,” Charity asked. She was exiting the restroom when Kennedy rounded the corner.

  “Mom cut her hand,” Kennedy replied.

  “What happened?”

  “he dropped a bowl and cut her hand trying to clean it up,” Kennedy offered as she rumbled in the sink cabinet for the kit.

  “I’ll help,” Charity offered.

  Once Kennedy got the kit, the two sisters returned to the kitchen. Felicia’s head was in her good hand. When she heard her footsteps returning to the kitchen, Felicia tried to straighten up.

  “Mommy, what happened,” Charity inquired.

  “It’s nothing, baby. Just a little accident.”

  Kennedy sat down next to her mother and began to attend to the cut while Charity proceeded to finish cleaning up the mess.

  “Mom, are you sure you’re okay,” Kennedy asked, noticing the heavy furrow of her mother’s brow.

  “It’s just a cut, Ken, no big deal,” Felicia replied.

  “I’m not talking about your hand,” Kennedy answered.

  “I’m fine, really Kennedy.”

  Kennedy nodded her head, unconvinced of her mother’ response. Eventually, with Felicia bandaged up, dinner was finally served. Cecil sat at the head of the table and Felicia sat on the opposite end. Four daughters lined each side of the table. The girls sat in the seats they’d sat in as little girls. It was a tradition.

  “Shall we pray?”

  That was also part of the tradition of a Moore family dinner. Each family member extended their hand to the one next to them and only when all hands were linked, heads bowed, and all eye closed, did their father commence with blessing the meal.

  “Bless the food we are not about to receive and bless the hands that prepared it. In your mighty name we pray, amen.”

  A chorus of amen echoed around the table.

  “It’s about time,” Aubrey whispered loud enough for all to hear. Laughter followed from around the table as bowls and dishes started to be passed around. Cecil handled the rack of lamb as plates were passed in his direction. Felicia’s eyes moved from her family to the front door and back again. She cradled her injured hand in the other while her daughters helped themselves to the food she’d prepared.

  “Mom, need some help with your plate,” Felicity asked. She was the fourth from the oldest Moore girl.

  “Go ahead and eat,” Felicia replied. “You know how it is when you’ve cooked a big meal. It takes your appetite away.”

  “Yeah, I do,” Felicity replied. She was the closest Felicia had to a namesake; however, Felicity couldn’t be more different than her mother. Where Felicia had be
en happy being a homemaker, raising a family, Felicity was adventurous and not the least bit domestic. She loved to travel and try new things, and just like her other sisters, turned her interests into a thriving business. Felicity owned a luxury travel agency, specializing in exotic adventures. Her business kept her on a plane and her passport was filled.

  The conversation around the table dwindled to nothing as the family enjoyed the fruits of their mother’s culinary labor.

  “See what you kept us from, Emery,” Aubrey chided referencing the tasty food. “So, why were you late again?”

  Taking the linen napkin from her lap, Emery wiped the corners of her mouth and proceeded to answer her sister’s snark.

  “Just winning a multi-million-dollar lawsuit for my clients,” Emery replied with a broad smile.

  “That’s wonderful honey,” Cecil replied, reaching out his hand and patting Emery’s.

  “Thank you, daddy,” Emery replied. She lived to make per parents proud; the plight of being the eldest.

  Congratulations spread around the table but was interrupted by the doorbell.

  “Who’s that,” Ivory asked.

  “We’re all here so I’m not sure, Daphne replied, scooting her chair back to answer the door.

  “No, no, honey, I’ll get it,” Felicia interjected; rising from her seat far too fast and banging her knee on the table. Felicia ignored the stabbing pain and moved quickly to the front door. Questioning looks passed from one sister to the other with several resting with their father. Cecil’s disposition remained even, and he smiled attempting to dissuade any concern.

  Felicia’s heart was beating so hard in her chest it made it difficult to breathe. With her hand on the brass handle, Felicia took a deep, cleansing breath, closed her eyes, and prayed silently.

  “Hi…mom.”

  The two women embraced at the door.

  As they separated, Samantha spoke.

  “I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” she said, nervously wringing her hands.

  Felicia looked up into her daughter’s face. She still couldn’t believe after all these years, she was looking in the face of her firstborn.

  “It will be fine,” Felicia insisted, trying to be convincing enough for both of them. “We’ll get through it together.” The two began to move towards the dining room.

  “Mom, who is it?” A call came from the other room. Felicia couldn’t distinguish which daughter it was, but Samantha froze in her tracks. Reaching out and taking her daughter’s hand, Felicia squeezed Samantha’s hand.

  “It’ll be fine.”

  Samantha’s steps were haughty behind her mother. She still wasn’t convinced they were going about this the right way. But what did she know? She didn’t know these people, her family. Maybe they would accept her with open arms. But something in Samantha’s gut told her differently. From the time she was five-years-old, Samantha knew she was adopted. Her adoptive parents didn’t shield her from the truth and although it was painful at the time, as Samantha got older, she appreciated their forthrightness. Although her adoptive parents were good people, like many other adoptees, Samantha longed to know where she came from; who she belonged to. Did she have a family? Siblings? What were her parents like? All the questions any child being raised in another family would ask.

  As soon as Samantha turned eighteen, she began her search in earnest. But it was not easy to move around a closed adoption. There was only so much information kept in records she could access. She learned as much as she could and then there would be a block that delayed finding out more. Of course, during that time, Samantha tried to keep moving forward in her life, going to school, earning a degree, going to counseling to deal with the mixed emotions she had about actually finding the people who gave her away. And now, all these years later, she found her mother; well actually, they found each other. One thing led to another, a phone call, in-person meeting, conversation with Cecil, lots of tears, lots of questions, and now this.

  As the duo rounded the corner into the dining room, Felicia felt her own steps beginning to slow down. She’d thought this through, prayed about it, agonized over, talked it over with her husband, and now, faced with her decision, wasn’t sure if it was the right one. But it was too late for second-guessing as her daughter’s, one by one, turned to see who was coming to dinner.

  Cecil scanned the faces of his daughters as they turned to the dining room entry. They were all beautiful, individually and collectively. He did his best to be the eternal optimist for his family; to make sure his girls were okay and to put up a united front with his wife. This… this was a test of their resolve to love each other through the good and the bad. But Cecil knew how much this meant to Felicia, and although he knew it would be hard on his family and on him learning the truth, he supported them knowing. He would be there, for each of them, to make sure they all came through it alright.

  She could see the trepidation on her mother’s face. Instinctively, Emery turned to her father for an answer. Instead of responding verbally, Cecil just squeezed Emery’s hand that he was still holding. That didn’t settle Emery’s concern. But she could see by the placating expression on her dad’s face, she would not be getting the answer from him.

  There was a lump that grew in Felicia’s throat that nearly impeded her ability to speak. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

  “Who’s with you, mom,” Aubrey inquired. She had never been patient or one to mince words. Where others would speculate, Aubrey would ask directly.

  “This is Samantha McLemore,” Felicia fretted. Samantha held her mother’s hand tightly and offered a slight smile to the many faces turned in her direction.

  “She’s your sister.”

  Forks once suspended in mid-air, hit the table without a hand attached to them. Glasses were set back on the table and several mouths fell open. Felicia instantly began to explain herself but much of what she said was drowned out by the plethora of questions and comments of disbelief coming from her daughters.

  “Who did you say this was?” Aubrey quizzed.

  “Let me explain,” Felicia began, moving back towards her seat with Samantha in tow.

  “Yeah, start explaining,” Aubrey scoffed, taking her napkin and tossing it over her plate. Aubrey’s appetite was ruined. Charity, sitting next to Aubrey, placed a hand on her sister’s arm.

  “Give her a chance,” Charity said, leaning over and getting Aubrey’s attention. Charity and Aubrey were the closest in age; a mere eleven months apart. The two were very close, more like twins than just sisters. Charity was the yin to Aubrey’s yang. Where Aubrey was outspoken, Charity was soft-spoken. Where Aubrey was forthright, Charity was introspective. Aubrey listened to Charity, turning her eyes toward her mother to hear what more she had to say.

  Reluctantly, the room quieted. The intensity was beyond anything Samantha could have anticipated and she pulled her hand from her mothers.

  “Maybe this is not the best idea,” she mumbled. Her eyes filled with tears that threatened to fall. Samantha wasn’t sure what she expected, but the heightened, unspoken emotions seemed too much to bear. Even before Felicia had an opportunity to explain, Samantha felt chastisement in the eyes of those she was kin to. Their stares and visual appraisals of her bore into her soul and all she wanted was retreat. She could go back to her old life, her old family and remain a mystery and a secret to the group sitting around the table. It would be hard, and maybe this bell could not be unrung, but Samantha was willing to end it before the conversation even got started. She started to backpedal, away from Felicia.

  “No, Samantha, don’t.” Felicia’s eyes begged her daughter to stay. Samantha scanned the room again. She wanted to know them. She felt a strange but real connection towards them. Samantha longed for them to get to know her too, but she was afraid. Still, she stopped moving and stood near the doorway. If they would give their mother a chance to speak and explain, so would she.

  “I know this is a lot to take in,” Felic
ia began, her voice quivering and just above a whisper. “All I ask is that you hear me out before judging.”

  The silence reflected to Felicia was as much agreement as she could hope for. Her hands shook, and she cast a glance to the head of the table, to her husband. Lifting himself from his chair, Cecil rounded the dining room table and moved in the direction of his wife. He passed her, grabbing a chair from the outskirts of the room and placing it behind his wife so she could sit. Some of the sisters looked at each other. This was unsettling; upsetting the life they’d all known to be real and true. Kennedy’s eyes searched Emery’s for answers. All she could offer was a slight raise of the shoulders. She was just as confounded as everyone else. Cecil offered Samantha a chair as well. She declined; preferring to lean on the wall. She needed its strength to hold her up as Felicia continued.

  Cecil stood behind his wife; visibly supporting her to anyone looking on.

  “I was young, when it happened,” Felicia began. There was an angst in her voice that was palatable, but she pressed forward.

  “Your father and I had been dating for a while, it was serious, but I wasn’t ready for what your father offered me.”

  Felicia hung her head, finding it hard to move forward. A warm hand placed on her shoulder encouraged her to continue. She could feel all her daughters watching her; evaluating and weighing every word she spoke. But they deserved to know. It had been too long already.

  “I was young and foolish. Behind an argument with Cecil, I sought comfort from another. Your father has always been an honorable man. He wanted our first time together to be in our marital bed. I nearly broke his heart when I told him that I was pregnant.”

  Felicia didn’t need to lift her head. She felt the gasps and mouths open without seeing them. Felicia had always tried to compensate for the mistakes in her youth; setting the best example in front of her children, being a good wife and mother, even if it meant being overbearing and overprotective. This revelation revealed a part of her that was fallible, that contradicted everything she’d ever preached to her daughters. Emery was speechless. She stared at her mother, trying to decipher what was going on. Emery heard the words her mother said but her mind, maybe even her heart wouldn’t let her process the information.