Free Suspicions by Sasha Campbell Page A

It started when he was a child and carried him through his teens. Girls flocked to him. By the time my son got to high school, I realized he was nothing but a ho. He would come home with a new shirt, pants, even Air Jordans the second they hit the street. Girls loved him and were willing to do whatever it took to get his attention. It was crazy. The house phone used to ring so much I had to change my number and made him get a job to pay for his own cell phone. Only he never kept a job because the women took care of him. Now, I’ll admit my son is handsome, but he ain’t all that. It’s just he had a way of talking to women. Scott had a creamy brown complexion. I always admired how smooth his skin looked for a man, and long lashes that any woman would give her right arm to have. He was tall and built like a brick house, a running back who received a full athletic scholarship to the University of Wisconsin. He drove out Chicago in a brand-new Dodge Avenger. Scott said he bought it, but I didn’t believe him. I knew better. Some girl was responsible.
    â€œThere were so many, there is no telling which one is trying to get her claws in my son.”
    Stepping into the living room, Whitney took a bite of her cake, then frowned. “You’re right. There are too many. I told you before that boy was going to get someone knocked up.”
    â€œYou’re supposed to be his godmother. How can you talk about him?”
    â€œBecause I love him I can talk about him. And your son is a ho and you know it. My baby and I are hungry and tired. I’ll call you later.”
    She turned to leave and I didn’t stop her. I carried my grandbaby over to the table. Sierra smiled at me.
    â€œYou know your grandmother when you see her, don’t you?”
    When Grant finally got home from the baseball game, I was sitting in the kitchen giving Sierra a bottle. He dropped his keys on the table, moved over, and planted a kiss to my cheek. Ever since I prepared that romantic dinner things had gotten somewhat better between us. Grant was spending less time hanging out with his boys and more time at home with me. I still felt like something was missing, but whatever it was I was certain our trip to Aruba would solve the problem.
    â€œHey, whose baby is that?”
    â€œYours.”
    My husband looked like he was about to bolt out the room. “What?”
    I laughed, although I was somewhat disturbed by his behavior. “She’s your granddaughter.”
    Grant tried to laugh off his reaction. “I was going to say, if I have a baby, then someone robbed my sperm while I was sleeping.”
    Good answer. For a second there I thought maybe there was something he and I needed to talk about.
    Grant moved to the refrigerator and started to grab a beer, then swung around. I guess when the light bulb came on inside the refrigerator so did the one in his head. “Wait a minute . . . did you just say that’s my granddaughter?”
    â€œI sure did.” I nodded and held Sierra up so he could get a closer look. “Look at her. She’s got your nose and eyes. She looks just like Scott when he was a baby.”
    My husband stared at her for a long moment, then that scared look returned to his face. “How do you know she’s Scott’s?”
    I quickly told him about coming home and finding the baby on the porch; then I showed him the note and Grant started rubbing the back of his neck. Something about his behavior made me feel uneasy.“What’s going through your mind?”
    â€œWhat did Scott have to say?” he asked.
    â€œI tried calling him, but he didn’t answer his phone. I left a message and told him he needed to call home ASAP.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “In the meantime you need to call the police and report the child.”
    â€œWhy do I need to report her? She’s my grandchild. I can look at her and tell she belongs to us.”
    Grant stepped back,