Westmoreland's Way - Brenda Jackson [14]
“No, everyone knew the Westmorelands would want to stay together. Besides,” he said, chuckling, “no one around our parts wanted to be responsible for Bane.”
“Bane?”
“Yes. It’s short for Brisbane. He’s my youngest brother who likes his share of mischief. He was only eight when my parents were killed and he took their deaths pretty hard.”
“How old is he now?”
“Twenty-two and still hot under the collar in more ways than one. I wish there was something holding his interest these days other than a certain female in Denver.”
Pam nodded. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was a certain female in Denver holding Dillon’s interest, as well.
“Do all of you still live close to one another?” she asked.
“Yes, Great-Grandpa Raphel purchased a lot of land back in the thirties. When each Westmoreland reaches the age of twenty-five they are given a hundred-acre tract of land, which is why we all live in close proximity to each other. As the oldest cousin, I inherited the family home where everyone seems to congregate most of the time.”
He then asked her, “How old were you when your great-grandfather passed?”
“He died before I was born, but I heard a lot about him. What about Raphel? How old were you when he passed?”
“He died before I was born, too. My great-grandmother lived until I was two, so I don’t rightly remember much of her, either. But I do remember my grandparents, Grampa Stern and Gramma Paula. It was Grampa Stern who used to tell us stories about Raphel, but never did he mention anything about past wives or other siblings. In fact, he claimed Raphel had been an only child. That makes me wonder how much he truly knew about his own father.”
Pam paused for a moment and then said, “I guess there are secrets in most families.”
“Yes, like Raphel running off with the preacher’s wife,” he said.
“And you think Raphel eventually married her?”
“Not sure of that, either,” Dillon replied. “Since she was legally married to the preacher, I don’t see how a marriage between them could take place, which is why I’m curious as to what happened to her once they fled Georgia.”
“But her name, as well as Portia’s, are shown as former wives on documents you’ve found?” she asked, trying to get a greater understanding of just what kind of life his great-grandfather may have led.
“Two of my Atlanta cousins, Quade and Cole, own a security firm and they did a background check, going as far back as the early nineteen-hundreds. Old land deeds were discovered for Raphel and they list four separate women as his wives. So far we know two of them—the preacher’s wife and Portia Novak—were already legally married. We can only assume Raphel lived with them pretending to be married.”
He paused a moment and then glanced around and asked, “Do you come up here often?”
His question made her realize they had been standing still long enough and were awfully close, so she shifted toward the attic door. “Not as often as I used to. I just moved back to Gamble last year when my father passed. Like you, I’m the oldest and I wanted to care for my sisters. I am their legal guardian.”
Dillon nodded and stepped back when she opened the attic door. He had noticed the way she had interacted with her sisters last night at dinner. It was obvious they were close.
“That’s my great-grandfather’s trunk over there. It’s my understanding that he and your great-grandfather were partners in a dairy business, which was very profitable at the time. I know there are a lot of business records in there, as well as some of Raphel’s belongings. It seems he made a quick getaway when he left Gamble.”
Dillon shot her a glance. “You have some of Raphel’s belongings?”
“Yes,” she said, moving toward the trunk. “I didn’t mention it at dinner last night.”
He understood the reason she hadn’t done so. Her fiancé probably would have had something to say about it. It was quite obvious the man could make an argument out of just about any subject.
Instead of immediately following her over to the trunk, Dillon stood back for a moment and watched her go. His gaze was focused on her. The