“What?! Fe…Felicity…she’s your mom?”
“Yes,” Elisha answered.
The shock was an understatement. It never crossed my mind that Elisha and Feliz were related much more true blood family. I heard about Feliz’s late daughter’s death. She was stillborn, and she died nineteen years ago.
“How?” I could only ask.
Elisha shrugged. “It just happened,” she nonchalantly answered me before looking at the investigators. “We can proceed now,” she added.
I was left dumbfounded. ‘She can’t be Noelle….’ I inwardly thought, yet I recalled the box and baby album she had back in my pent in New Jersey. The baby photo of Girl Calvin. Noelle. Elisha Noelle.
Feliz’s eyes. Her smiles. Her demeanor. It all reflected Elisha’s. It was uncanny. Damn. “Baby…” I murmured. Everyone looked at me, especially Elisha.
