Free Like Slow Sweet Molasses by Unknown Page B

consider that a reflection on me.” He
began slapping peanut butter on slices of wheat bread using the same knife to
dip the jelly.
    “Not
the same thing I can assure you.” Watching him fix the first sandwich, she
stopped him before he moved on to the next. “Nothing for me. Thanks.”
    He
saw the little wrinkle on the bridge of her nose. “Don’t eat peanut butter?”
    “Can’t
eat peanut butter. Deathly allergic.”
    “Oh.
How about a jelly sandwich, then?” Chance’s big bite lopped his sandwich in
half.
    “Can’t.”
Beating him to the punch, she explained, “You put the peanut butter knife in
the jelly. Any peanut residue can send my body into anaphylactic shock.”
    Chance
opened an overhead cabinet to remove a fresh jar of apple jelly and plopped
down a clean knife for her use. Angela dug in with relish, rewarding him with a
semi-smile. “All these years,” she licked at the jelly off her fingers, “and I
never suspected a thing.”
    “Was
love from your parents ever a question for you?”
    “No.
Never.”
    “So,
you admit you had the love of a mother and father throughout your entire
life.   Correct?”
    “Yes.”
    He
loved the way she nibbled her sandwich while contemplating her answers to his
questions. “Then why let the knowledge that your biological father is other
than the father who loves, raised and protected you, blind you to that fact?”
    “Stop
interrogating me!” She leapt up from the table, her sandwich a memory. Only his
hand locked around her wrist brushing her lightly against the chair. He didn’t
let her go, apologizing softly for his actions.
    “My
family life blew to pieces when my father walked out on us and Mom decided to
return to her hometown in another state. I’d taken a wrong turn with the law
during my early high school years putting me in contact with Freddy Robinson,
Quantrell’s father. He took pity on me, prodding me to stay in school, inviting
me over to spend time with his family. Said he saw potential that I was
‘blowing out my ass’.” Chance paused to see her reaction. She looked speechless.
“The Robinsons welcomed me into their home. At first, Trell and Chanté weren’t
too happy with that development.”
    “Chanté?”
    “The
Robinson’s daughter. My sister.”
    “They
came around, I suppose.” Then answering her own question, “He said as much today,
didn’t he, calling you brother.”
    “My
point is—love comes in many colors, Angela. I’ll always be grateful that I
wasn’t cast aside because of the color of my skin.”
    “My
biological father is white,” she blurted. He didn’t look surprised. “You’ve
surmised that already, haven’t you?”
    “Your
aversion to white people clued me in. I suspected the moment you said your
father wasn’t your father. The puzzle pieces just fell into place.” His fingers
unlocked at her insistent jerk.
    “You
want to know all the sordid details of why there’s no love lost between me and
people like you?” She rattled on recklessly, panting hard and hardly seeing him
in front of her.
    “Take
it easy, Angela.” He was there, prepared and ready to catch the fallout of her
traumatic episode.
    “Six
months into our marriage, three months into our pregnancy, I thought the world
rotated on golden axis. I’d never been happier. Living the American dream. In
love with and loved by a wonderful man.” Angela marched away from him to stand
at the window, shaking badly enough to cause her voice to tremble as she
carried on with her tale. “Or so I thought. Long story short, he loved me as
long as I was in sight.”
    “Another
woman?” She jumped apparently unaware he’d made his way to her. The back of her
hands served to swipe the tears from her eyes. “A white woman?”
    “He
followed me to explain what I saw meant nothing to him. She was an old flame
and their relationship was over long before he and I got together. I pulled
from his grip, lost my balance…you know how clumsy I