Chapter 8

Kit held Nichelle’s hand as they strolled from the Sweet Bean toward Whalen. “Sweet Bean has become our regular Saturday spot,” Kit remarked.

“Yeah. I like the group who played there tonight.”

“The Washer Women? You like Celtic music?”

“Yeah, why shouldn’t I? It has a nice beat. I wish I could get some of their CDs.”

“You listen to CDs?” Kit asked.

“They sound better I think, don’t you? Mom has a really good sound system at home.”

“Your mom is an audiophile? I’m learning all these new things about you, Nichelle.”

“My mom loves music. She was dating the choir director of her church for a while and he helped her set it up. If I rip a CD and put it on my phone and then plug my phone into Mom’s sound system -- I can hear the difference -- and my ears aren’t trained like hers are.”

“I guess I never heard a really good sound system. Doesn’t that group have a website you can order from?”

“They do, but they only take PayPal and I don’t use that,” she replied.

“So, what’s this big surprise you have for me?”

“It’s a surprise for us. A package came in the mail. It’s from Mom and she wrote, ‘open with Kit’ on it.”

They reached her dorm and climbed the stairs to the third floor. Nichelle opened the door to her bedroom. It had barely closed before Kit had her in an embrace and they kissed. “Kit,” she said, “I don’t want to disappoint you, but ... I’m afraid it won’t be a big night.” She closed her eyes and grimaced. “I’m having my stupid period.”

“It wouldn’t bother me,” he replied.

“It would bother me and I hope you’d respect that. You probably don’t want to hear any of this, do you?”

“Oh, I absolutely do. I want to know about your body. The more I know the better I can care for you.”

She threw her arms around him and kissed his lips. “Oh, God, how I love you. My ex would make himself scarce if he knew I was on the rag.”

“It’s part of your life, Nichelle -- that makes it part of my life. When did it start?”

“Yesterday.”

“How long does it last?”

“Three or four days for the worst of it. I get cramping, too. Enough of this. Let’s see what’s in Mom’s package.”

Nichelle opened the box. Inside was a manila envelope and another box wrapped in brown paper. “Brown paper wrapper,” Kit remarked, “could be something sexy.”

“From my mom, I doubt it. The envelope says, open me first.” Nichelle ripped open the envelope. Inside was a sheet labeled, Kit’s Family Tree.

Kit looked over her shoulder. “Kit -- you are a direct descendent of Malcolm Wainwright.”

“Let me see that...” She handed it to him.

“See? Your great-grandfather was born in Pennsylvania but your great-great-grandfather was born in West Virginia. Somewhere along the line he upped stakes and move to PA.”

“Probably to work in the coalfields.”

‘Your great-great-great grandfather was Malcolm Wainwright, Junior. He must’ve been Mabel’s half-brother.”

“Holy shit ... I can’t believe it.”

“Here’s information on Malcolm Senior ... He was born in Surrey, England, circa eighteen twenty. He came to this country at the age of twelve as an indentured servant.”

“That’s like being a slave, himself,” Kit remarked.

“Yes, but ... His indenture lasted seven years. A slave’s indenture was life-long. Mom has a note here -- he probably was orphaned. Orphans sometimes were sent overseas to become indentured. Malcolm was indentured to a planter named Karl Wittig. After his indenture was up, Malcolm stayed on as a hired hand and eventually became Wittig’s right-hand man. Wittig died without heirs, so he left the plantation to Malcolm -- which is how your poor, orphaned ancestor came to own a plantation and twelve slaves.”

“It’s unbelievable. You’re right -- it is fascinating. Right now I’m feeling some shame for having an ancestor who was a slave-holder.”

She kissed his cheek. “You’ve redeemed yourself, in my eyes at least.”

“We’ve established my line to Malcolm. We still don’t have proof that Malcolm sired Mabel.”

Nichelle held the inner box. “I think I know what this is,” she said and began removing the brown paper. “DNA test kits ... Mom wants us to send DNA samples back to her and she’ll arrange to have ours compared -- to see if we really are fifth cousins.”

“Fifth half-cousins,” Kit remarked. “We might share the same great-great-great-great-grandfather, but not the same four times great grandmother.”

“True fact. Mom says it’s completely voluntary, Kit. Are you game?”

“I’m game. What do I need to do?”

“The instructions say to scrub the inside of your cheek with the swab, put it in the tube and seal it. I’ll ship it back to Mom on Monday.”

Kit sealed his swab in his tube and Nichelle did the same. “How would you feel about being kissing cousins?” she asked.

“Kissing fifth half-cousins? I think that’s a safe enough amount of separation, don’t you?”

“More than safe enough. Kit -- which way do you hope it goes?”

“I hope we are related.”

“So do I. Even getting this far makes me feel closer to you ... like we’re a part of each other.”

Nichelle began getting undressed. “Let me help you with that,” Kit said. He helped her out of her pull-over top and unsnapped and unzipped her jeans. Underneath she wore a pair of black briefs. Sliding them down her legs he regarded her tattoo and caressed the back of her thigh. He ran his hands up and down her smooth legs. “I think you have pretty knees,” he remarked. Then he lifted a black cotton camisole over her head. “God, I love those beautiful, sexy breasts.”

She slipped into her light green robe and slipped some items from a drawer into her pocket. “I’m going to get ready for bed. If you need to use the bathroom, why don’t you go first? I’ll watch the door.”

Kit stepped out of the bathroom and Nichelle stepped in. He returned to her room, stripped to his briefs and awaited her. She entered, slipped out of her robe and hung it on a hook on the back of her door. She turned to him still wearing her black briefs.

He approached her, scooped her off her feet and carried her to her bed. She slid under the covers and he slid in beside her. She cuddled under his arm and he stroked her back and sides. “Mmmpf,” she moaned softly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Cramps ... uhn ... they’re passing.” She put her hand on his chest and plowed her fingers through his hair.

“I spoke to my mom earlier about Christmas,” he said. “If we can figure out how to get there, we’re welcome to stay for as long as we want. It doesn’t need to include Christmas day -- they’ll make arrangements for a celebration.”

“So, do you think they’re beginning to accept me?”

“They’re accepting the reality of the situation. That picture of you I sent them helped -- it made you more real to them. Once they meet you, they’ll love you, Nichelle. I guarantee it.”

“Mom said she’d be willing to finance both of us flying to Philadelphia. She also said we could use her car to drive to your folks’ place for a few days.”

“Won’t she need it?”

“No. Mom gets around on public transit. She uses the car for out-of-town travel. It’s five years old and only has twenty thousand miles on it.”

“Winter break is pretty long -- three weeks plus,” Kit remarked. “First term exams are done by the tenth of December and second term registration is January sixth.”

“Mom would really like us to celebrate Christmas with her, Kit, and we start celebrating it on Christmas Eve.”

“Well, since she’s financing the trip, I’d say that’s the least we could do. How about we spend three or four days before Christmas with my folks? We could drive back to Philly for Christmas Eve and Christmas day.”

Nichelle nodded. “That sounds like a reasonable plan. I’ll ask Mom about it.”

“I’ll call my mom.”

Nichelle continued running her fingers through his chest hair. “I like this,” she said. “My ex...”

“How about no more comparisons with exes,” he replied.

“Fair enough.” She began running her fingertips across his nipples.

“Are you trying to start something?” he asked.

“Well ... Even if I can’t tonight, there’s no reason for you to lie there like a monk.” Nichelle threw the covers back and sat, cross-legged near his hips. She began running her hands up and down his chest and sides, randomly stroking his breasts.

Kit regarded her in the dim light. He took in her features -- her compact breasts, her full thighs ... the muscle definition in her slender arms. Just looking at her was arousing to him. “I do like seeing your brown hands on my lizard-belly white skin,” he remarked. “Almost as much as I like seeing my lizard-belly white hands on your brown skin.”

“Oh, you’re not that pale.” Nichelle knelt over him and covered his chest and belly with slow, soft kisses. She caressed his legs, running her hands up the insides of his thighs.

She began fondling the bulge in his briefs. Kit lifted his hips so she could grasp the waistband and slide them off his legs. Nichelle kissed the length of his manhood from its base to its tip; then she wrapped her fingers around it. “Mmm ... Meaty ... I can think of a few things we could do with this.”