Free Looking For Trouble by Trice Hickman Page B

nothing that could frighten me so badly it would keep me from being there for you, to help protect you and see you through it.”
    Alexandria was comforted by her mother’s unwavering love, and the fact that she’d been born from one of the strongest, most resilient women she knew. Not only had she inherited her mother’s physical beauty, she’d received Victoria’s strong constitution and will. Each time she looked into her mother’s eyes, Alexandria could see the loss, happiness, pain, and life lessons she’d experienced. And even though her mother had stumbled many times, she always got back up on her feet and never missed a beat in the rhythm of life.
    â€œI know you wanted to help, Mom. But just as you’ve always wanted to protect me, I wanted to protect you, Dad, and Christian,” Alexandria said, referring to her younger brother, who was a senior at Morehouse College.
    â€œYou’re a good daughter, Alexandria, and I’m so proud of you. But I still wish you would’ve shared this with me years ago. I remember watching you grow into young womanhood and thinking to myself that you were going through something . . . something much more serious than puppy love crushes and dating dilemmas.” Victoria let out a tired sigh. “But I also knew you were determined not to let me in. Keeping all that to yourself had to have taken its toll.”
    â€œAt times, it did.”
    The two sat in silence for a moment, absorbing revelations that had been decades in the making. Victoria slowly leaned forward in her upholstered high-back chair. “Tell me about the voices you’re hearing.”
    â€œActually, it’s a single person who’s been talking to me now.”
    â€œAll right. Do you know who it is?”
    Alexandria put her cookie down and wiped her hands on her napkin. “Grandma Allene.”
    Victoria’s back stiffened harder than stone as she blinked, trying to remain calm. This was her father’s grandmother, her great-grandmother, and a woman who had been dead for many decades. She steadied her voice as she spoke. “What has she been saying to you?”
    â€œThat she’s ready for a fight, and that she’s going to protect and guide us.”
    â€œA fight?” Victoria said, concern lacing her voice. “Who is ‘us’ and what’s she trying to protect you from?”
    Alexandria knew she should have started by warning her mother that whenever she heard voices, usually from spirits who had long passed away, they hardly ever came as bearers of good news. “The ‘what,’ I don’t know. But the ‘who’ is Grandpa John . . . and me.”
    She watched her mother’s brow wrinkle, clearly at a loss for words. Victoria’s father, John Small, had passed away five years ago. Alexandria had taken his death hard because he was her last living grandparent. He’d been a tall, strong, and imposing figure, even into his late eighties. But as businesslike as he was, he’d also been loving and kind, always telling her stories about what she called “the olden days.”
    Alexandria remembered that her grandfather often reminisced about his formative years growing up in his small town of Nedine, South Carolina, and what life had been like for black folks during that time. “We were Negros back then,” he’d once said. “Then we became colored, before moving on to black. Now we’re African American. But, Alexandria, you can be anything you want to be. Always remember who you are and where you came from. If you do that, you’ll have the strength to endure whatever this world throws at you.”
    Victoria rested her chin in her hand. “I miss Daddy so much. Is he trying to talk to you, too?”
    â€œNo, just Grandma Allene.”
    â€œHmmm.”
    â€œI’ve been hearing her voice for the past month. It started off as a very faint whisper, mumbles