Tristan's Choice

Savannah Jackson

Description

Tristan’s Choice by Savannah Jackson follows the life Shiloh, and his son Tristan fifteen years after Tristan’s birth. Shiloh along with his wife Moselle is doing a great job of raising Tristan, and his sisters. Although, Moselle is not Tristan’s birthmother, anyone observing from the outside would never know, because she loves and treats him as her own.
All is going well for Shiloh, Tristan, and their family until one day when a knock on the door changes everything. Tristan opens the front door, and finds himself standing face to face with a stranger who turns out to be his birthmother, Angela. Angela has returned after fifteen years to claim her son at the prompting of her boyfriend Leroy who has recently been released from jail and believes that he is Tristan’s father. Will Angela succeed at uprooting Tristan’s life, or will Shiloh prevail at keeping his family together?

Sujets

• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 06 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669844686
• Langue: English

Extrait

Tristan’s Choice
Savannah Jackson

Copyright © 2022 by Savannah Jackson.
 
ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-6698-4469-3

eBook
978-1-6698-4468-6
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved. [Biblica]
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
Cover and model’s photography by, J. Mikes Photography, LLC
Cover model JaMonte Holmes
Author photo by, The Savannah J. Publications
Editing by W. Y. Cross
 
 
 
Rev. date: 08/29/2022
 
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
845435
Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31

From the desk of Savannah J
We so often pay homage to our single mothers out there holding it down. Many are raising boys on their own without the help of a man. In most of these cases, we are quick to point out the absence of the fathers. What we often fail to do as a group, however, is to acknowledge that in some instances mothers can be absent too.
In situations where the mother chose to leave and fathers are left to raise their children alone, it can be a blessing when another woman steps up to the plate. These women not only pledge their love and loyalty to the father, but to his children as well.
Please join me in applauding these women, and their efforts to be great mothers. As we all know to raise children well in our world today, it takes a village. Blessings to all mothers who have broken the stepmother mold and embraced children in their families as their own.
Ciao!
Acknowledgements
To Jehovah God, my Lord and Savior. I can never praise and thank you enough for all the blessings you have given me. You are the beat of my heart and the air that I breathe. Thank you for blessing me with the gift of writing.
My son, J. Michael, you are still my greatest blessing. Thank you for reminding me, the good stuff is just around the corner. I am so proud of you, my Photographer Extraordinaire.
To the Savannah J Publications, LLC Dream Team/Beta-Readers, I thank you for your undying support and for never saying no, whenever I need you.
To my editor W. Y. Cross, thank you for taking my work and polishing it and making it shine. Your input is invaluable.
To my sister, sister-in-law, and nieces and nephews, I thank you for always keeping it real with me whenever the need arises. Charles Carroll Lee, my close friend and co-host. Thank you for believing in my work, for keeping the fire lit under my feet and for pulling me back into the wonderful world of literature. Thomas “Fern” Garnett, thank you for selflessly sticking with me during my darkest time and for helping me to take my sanity back.
To the BBQR Family, thank you for loving me, boasting on me, and supporting me always. My classmates from WHS Class of 1974, thank you for your “Ride or Die” friendship, for supporting me and always making me feel special. To my friend El Shabazz, your friendship means the world to me. Thanks for your great conversations, love, and support. Tammy, I still thank you for insisting, I finish Toward the Light. Look where your push has taken me.
To my readers, thanks for not only reading my work but loving it. You make it all worthwhile. Dr. George C. Longest thanks for seeing the writer in me. And to Doddie, the fixer of my broken wing, I’m still making good decisions for me. Thank you for your guidance.
To anyone I should have thanked but forgot, please charge it to my head and not my heart.
Savannah J.

Dedication : To by brother J.R. Thank you for reminding me that my season would come in God’s time. You are with me every day and your words continue to guide me. I miss you still.
Chapter 1
Twelve years later . . .
“I’ll get it Mom!” Tristan yelled to Moselle.
At age fifteen, he was the spitting image of his father. He stood five feet eleven inches tall with the same mahogany brown skin tone, full lips, and slender nose. The only feature possessed by Tristan that wasn’t his father’s, were his piercing brown eyes. The attentive way Shiloh groomed Tristan made sure his son was on his way to becoming just as conscientious as himself.
Moselle and Shiloh often left Tristan in charge of his younger eleven-year-old twin sisters, Maya, and Amelia when they had a date night; a responsibility Tristan took seriously.
A few seconds later Moselle heard the alarm system chime as the front door opened, but she didn’t hear Tristan announce the visitor. “Who is it, Tristan?”
When he didn’t respond, Moselle called out from the laundry room, “Tristan, I asked who is at the door?”
She knew that although he was only fifteen, Tristan was her most dependable child. When she got no response the second time, Moselle became concerned. She looked at Amelia who was helping her out and then placed the clean clothes in her hands back into the dryer and headed to the door.
Just as she turned the corner from the kitchen into the hallway leading to the foyer, she heard Maya say, “I think it’s his mother.”
Tristan stood face to face with a woman whose eyes mirrored his. He heard Moselle ask who was at the door but for the life of him, he couldn’t answer.
“May I help you?” Moselle’s voice sounded from behind Tristan. And then, he felt her hands on his shoulders as she moved him, and stood between him and the stranger at the door.
“Yes, I’m here to see my son.” The woman’s voice and stance became aggressive.
“I think you have the wrong house.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. She observed Moselle for a second and then settled her gaze on Tristan.
“Wrong house? No, I don’t think I have the wrong house. My name is Angela Pritchard and I’m Tristan’s mother.”
Moselle tilted her head to the side and stared at, Angela for a minute. If the woman was Angela, Moselle tried to fathom how, she had found them. Furthermore, how did she muster the audacity to show up at their home after fifteen years claiming to be his mother.
“I don’t know who you are or how you think you know my son, but I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken. You see I’m Tristan’s mother. And I suggest you get off my property right now before I call the police.” This time, Moselle’s posture matched, Angela’s.
“Really? ―”
“Yes, really.” Moselle took a step toward, Angela. At the same time, the twins Maya and Amelia placed themselves in front of their brother.
Angela smirked at the protective bravado shared between Moselle and her daughters.
Tristan knew his sisters would fight for him in a heartbeat, but he had just seen a side of Moselle he had never seen before. He knew she could be protective of her children, and it made him feel safe. Yet, he had a curiosity about the woman at the door.
Shiloh and Moselle never hid the fact that he had a birthmother out there somewhere. Although, he figured out he was abandoned at birth, his parents didn’t put Angela down.
“Maya, Amelia, and Tristan; you three go on into the laundry room and finish emptying the dryer for me. I’ll be there in a minute.” Moselle spoke without taking her eyes off, Angela.
She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. “Let me explain something to you,” she said to Angela. “You come here claiming to have given birth to Tristan. But you decided you didn’t want him the minute you disappeared from the hospital without a word to Shiloh. Now, I’m the one who loves him. I’m the one raising him, so what you’re not going to do is show up at my door fifteen years later and disrupt his life.”
“You may have been raising Tristan, but as his birthmother, I have a right to see my son.”
Moselle squinted, “You gave up your rights, Angela. I’ve adopted Tristan and he’s, my son. Now, I’m going to ask you one more time to leave my property and stay away from my son or I will have you arrested for trespassing.”
Angela gave Moselle a head to toe once over and then turned on her heels and headed to her car. As Moselle watched her drive off, she knew her advice had fallen on deaf ears. The look of insolence in Angela’s eyes, told Moselle this was only the beginning.
Chapter 2
Moselle heard her phone ring as she walked through the door. It was the ringtone for her husband, and she ran to catch it. Just as she picked it up, Shiloh’s call went to voice mail. There were five missed calls from him, one behind the other.
She took a deep breath and hit redial