Beautiful, Loved and Blessed

The Son of David

***Another short, but impactful chapter. Enjoy💞***

As I gasped Jeanette reached over squeezing my hand.  Looking at me with understanding, she pressed her forehead against mine.

"It's all good baby." She quietly stated as she continued to speak.

"This gorgeous woman is my mother Giselle; isn't she stunning?"  Jeanette smiled.

"Very much so." I agreed.  "She sort of reminds me of a hazel-eyed...

"Sade", we simultaneously said.

"Yeah, she got that a lot." Jeanette jovially stated.

"This super-duper handsome man is my father Jibril; as you can see, I get my mesmerizing eyes from him."  She broadly smiled like a bonafide daddy's girl.

Her father was indeed a very handsome man.  What really stood out about him in the picture is that one could clearly see that he carried some sort of a regal air about him. It was natural and subtle, but it was lucidly visible.

Clearing her throat, she then took a deep breath before continuing.  "This young guy right here is my older brother Jalil, and this is me....and my twin sister Jamilla."

I noticed that her eyes misted a little as she smiled at the picture.  Even though my heart felt immense sadness for her, the upbeat yet solemn energy she exuded, kept me from becoming over emotional. 

I gave her a sweet peck on the lips as I gently caressed her, and decided to revealed to her something that we slightly had in common.

"You know, my mother was a twin."  I confessed.

"Really?"

"Yes, really.  However, her and my aunt weren't identical.  You and your sister have the same eye color, and even the faint freckle patterns on your face seem to be the same.  Could anyone tell you two apart?" I asked as I stared at the picture.

"Only my Dad; even my mother would take a really good look at us sometimes before she would call our names. 

My father however, said that he could tell us apart because even though our eyes were the same color, they sparkled differently.  Plus he would get a kick out of us tricking people."  She laughed.

"How old are you guys in this picture?"  I asked.

"My sister and I were 11-years-old, and my brother was 13."  She solemnly informed me.

Then she pointed to another picture. 

"Now this is a picture of my paternal grandmother Margaux and this my dear, is a picture of my great-grandmother...the infamous Madame Jean-Jacques."  She said smirking at me with an arched eyebrow as she saw my reaction.

I was floored.  "Jeanette you look just like her, only a shade or so lighter.  She's also a bit more exotic looking."

"That's that melanin magic honey!  Mamzelle, as I called her, was half African and half French, which leads me to what I wanted to tell you."  She said as she put the photo album to the side of us.

Taking another sip of tea, she then climbed on top of me and gave me a passionate kiss.  But before she spoke to bare her soul, I decided to ask her something first.

"I notice that you're the only one with a traditional type of name; why is that?"

"I'm glad you asked because I was going to get to that."  She chuckled before continuing.

"My name is from the French region, but the origin of my name is Hebrew.  It means 'God is gracious'.  My middle name however is Bayyinah and it's Arabic for 'Clear Proof or Evidence'; it's also the title of my father's favorite Quranic surah.

I was born exactly 72 seconds after my sister, and the only thing that set us apart at birth was  the fact that I was born with a caul and she was not."

"A caul? You were born with a veil over your face?"  I shockingly asked.

"Yes, and Mamzelle of course was my mother's mid-wife. Mamzelle knew from the moment of my birth that I was special and she knew that I was special, because she too had been born with a veil over her face.

She  was more than a midwife and healer. Mamzelle's father was originally from East Africa and he descended from a royal bloodline.  That royal bloodline was of Hebrew origin and the women of that origin were all special women." She informed me.

"There's only one royal bloodline that I read about which descended from Ethiopia."  I intriguingly stated.

Jeanette looked at me strangely, then I looked at Jeanette suspiciously and with much confusion. 

Keeping my composure as she continued to caress my thigh, I decided to speak casually being that I wasn't quite putting the pieces together.

"Jeanette, what are you trying to tell me?"  I asked as I took a sip of wine.

"As the great-granddaughter of Madame Jean-Jacques, not only am I a midwife and an healer as she was, but like her I am also a priestess; the last of the priestesses from Solomonic lineage."

As wine came flying out of my mouth, I began to cough as I was choking a little bit.

Scrambling to her feet Jeanette went to the bathroom, quickly returning with a few small towels and began to pat my back.

"Are you okay?" She asked with a concerned laced tone.

I didn't immediately answer because my mind was still trying to process the information that just spewed from her mouth.

As I stopped coughing, she nervously began patting the wine that I had spilled on both her and myself, as well as some of her pillows.

Grabbing her hands, I took one of the towels and cleaned the mess up myself because I could tell that my reaction made her visibly regret telling me that information.

"My apologies, but....did you just indirectly say that you're a descendant of King Solomon? Like THE King Solomon...the son of David?"

Cutting me off Jeanette sternly spoke with a soft tone.

"Yes, THAT King Solomon. As you most likely know, Solomon had many wives, concubines, etc., but his mother Bethesda was actually a priestess.

My paternal lineage has been traced back to her." She said as she went to caress me.

Noticing that I was apprehensive to her touch, she disappointingly lowered her hand. I didn't mean to act that way, but I wasn't expecting such a confession.

"Sooo....do you possess some kind of special power?" I nervously asked.

With knitted brows, Jeanette looked at me as if she was offended.

"I only possess special knowledge, not special powers. What do you think, I'm some kind of weirdo...like a half mutant X-Man or something?!" She scoffed.

I quickly noticed the hint of hurt in her tone.

"No...not at all. I don't think you're a weirdo...it's just that I'm a little taken back; it's a lot for me to digest." I said in a scattered tone.

"Clearly." She mumbled, then she cleared her throat.

"If this is a problem for you let me know now." She sadly stated.

I went to grab her hand, but she jerked it away.

"No sweet talk....if this is a problem let me know!" She demanded with a shaky voice.

Taking a deep breath, I looked into the fearful eyes of the woman I had fallen so deeply in love with....

****Happy Saturday lovelies!  I know the chapter was short, but another one is coming tomorrow!

In the meantime, let's talk about this chapter....
What are your thoughts on all that Jeanette has lost during Katrina?
Do you think Prince handled the situation appropriately?

Let me know what you think, and don't forget to vote and comment!***