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“Mr. Abernathy—” Cheyenne began.
“Please, call me Jennings.”
“I’m here today because I believe that you might be my biological father.”
He shook his head. “I’m not.”
I could’ve been mistaken, but he sounded almost sad about it.
Cheyenne stiffened beside me. “Well, I’d like to make sure. I’d like you to take a paternity test.”
“I have. Several.” Jennings stood, took a set of keys out of his pocket, bent down and opened a filing drawer. He pulled out a folder and handed it to Cheyenne.
“They’re all there. All five of them.”
I sat quietly, feeling more and more out of place. This honestly didn’t seem like a conversation I needed to be a part of, but I’d promised Cheyenne, so I stayed.
“When? Why?” she asked as she flipped through the paperwork.
“I loved your mother, Cheyenne. I loved her so much.”
Tears welled behind Mr. Abernathy’s glasses and he wiped beneath them.
“We had a relationship. Now, don’t think poorly of her. She was a free spirit, and your daddy, well, your daddy didn’t always do right by her.”
“I don’t even know who my daddy is.” Her voice cracked and I could tell that this was hitting her hard. I wish I knew what to say or do. Instead, I just sat there silently.
“What?” Jennings’ brow furrowed.
“If you’re not my father and James isn’t my father—”
“What do you mean, if James isn’t your father? Of course, he’s your father.” His voice boomed.
“James Comfort is not my father. Before I came to see you, I had my DNA tested against my brothers.”
“Well then, if it wasn’t James, and it’s not me…”
“I don’t know.” Cheyenne stood. She almost looked like a trapped animal in a cage. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Abernathy.”
I rose and followed her to the door. She’d just put her hand on it when she turned and looked back at Jennings, who was still seated in his chair, apparently gobsmacked.
“Why did you come to see my grandparents, then? If you knew, why did you come to my graduations?”
He stared off blankly, as if he hadn’t heard her for a moment, but then turned toward her. “You were a piece of Sabrina that was still in this world. I didn’t do right by her when she was alive, but I wanted to do right by her daughter.”
“What about my brothers? You’ve always been an asshole to them.”
He just shook his head, not seeming to know the answer himself. “If I had to hazard a guess, it would be because from what I’d seen, all the boys took after their father, and Cheyenne, you were always the spitting image of your mother.”
As we left the office, I wondered if my father had ever noticed that my eyes were exact duplicates of my mother’s. Or if he’d even care if he had. It was just one more question to add to the growing list that I wanted answered.
