Read Online The Governor's Sons by Maria McKenzie - Free Book Online
Authors: Maria McKenzie
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gravy. When those potatoes were swimming in that gravy, they’d be so good they’d make you want to slap your mama! Kitty smiled, but only for a moment.
She couldn’t really concentrate on how good the potatoes would be, or the pork chops, or the delectable chocolate cream pie that Aunt Izolla had made for this evening’s dessert. Too many conflicting emotions shot through her mind and her heart.
“Okay,” Kitty said to herself, so she’d started it. She’d reached to kiss Ash first, but then only teased him by pulling away. Then she’d allowed him to kiss her. And he’d kissed her a lot since she’d let him. She liked kissing him and even dreamed about it. Though she’d wanted longer, deeper kisses, she wouldn’t permit that. But Friday night, she had.
Ash said he loved her. She wanted to believe him. There was no doubt that she loved him. But did he really love her, or was he just trying to take advantage of her? He’d always been a gentlemen, never going further than she’d allowed. But did he really care for her?
After last night’s dinner, Kitty and Betty Jean had visited with Russell’s family. The main topic of conversation was the peril of the Negro woman at the hands of the depraved white man.
“A white man could never love a colored woman,” Thomas had said. “But they’re curious to find out what it’s like to sleep with one.”
“Besides,” Russell said, “they think they’re entitled. It wasn’t that long ago when their grandfathers owned and raped our women.”
“White folks are always complaining about what a menace to society the Negro is because of his supposed weakness for white female flesh,” Thomas said. “But those crackers refuse to even look at a colored woman being violated by a white man as rape. They think all our women are promiscuous and there for the taking.”
Words Thomas said about Ash in yesterday’s car ride reverberated through Kitty’s mind. “He just wants to get into your drawers. He might talk sweet, but most likely he’ll use force.”
Mama and Daddy had always warned that a white man was nothing but trouble. Even though Ash wasn’t one of those white men, Kitty wondered if she could trust him. After all, he was white. And besides, Ash loving her—really loving her—was a fantasy. And even if he did—they’d never have a real future together.
Kitty tried to convince herself that her fears were irrational. But what if they weren’t? S he hadn’t really known Ash that long. Yet he’d said he wanted to make love to her. Would he have been bold enough to say that if she’d been white? Or was it because she was Negro, he felt no shame in expressing himself so blatantly? Did she not deserve the same respect as a white girl?
Would he resort to force if he didn’t get what he wanted by sweet-talking? Fear gripped Kitty and she almost sliced her hand with the potato peeler. Putting the peeler and the potato down for a moment, Kitty took a deep breath. For the first time, she felt like she didn’t trust Ash. And for the first time, she feared being alone with him.
The knob turned at the back door. Kitty froze. Her heart began beating rapidly. She knew it was Ash. When he walked inside, she didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she picked up the potato and began working industriously to skin it clean.
Slowly, Ash walked to the kitchen table behind her and set down his bag. For a few moments, he didn’t say anything. Kitty felt her chest tighten.
“I missed you this morning,” he said.
Kitty exhaled, relieved that he’d finally spoken. She let out a a small nervous laugh, but still didn’t look at him. “Your mother let us come in late—because of the affair last night. Betty Jean and I—we uh--stayed up late—talking and visiting at Russell’s house.”
Ash walked up behind her. He reached around her
She couldn’t really concentrate on how good the potatoes would be, or the pork chops, or the delectable chocolate cream pie that Aunt Izolla had made for this evening’s dessert. Too many conflicting emotions shot through her mind and her heart.
“Okay,” Kitty said to herself, so she’d started it. She’d reached to kiss Ash first, but then only teased him by pulling away. Then she’d allowed him to kiss her. And he’d kissed her a lot since she’d let him. She liked kissing him and even dreamed about it. Though she’d wanted longer, deeper kisses, she wouldn’t permit that. But Friday night, she had.
Ash said he loved her. She wanted to believe him. There was no doubt that she loved him. But did he really love her, or was he just trying to take advantage of her? He’d always been a gentlemen, never going further than she’d allowed. But did he really care for her?
After last night’s dinner, Kitty and Betty Jean had visited with Russell’s family. The main topic of conversation was the peril of the Negro woman at the hands of the depraved white man.
“A white man could never love a colored woman,” Thomas had said. “But they’re curious to find out what it’s like to sleep with one.”
“Besides,” Russell said, “they think they’re entitled. It wasn’t that long ago when their grandfathers owned and raped our women.”
“White folks are always complaining about what a menace to society the Negro is because of his supposed weakness for white female flesh,” Thomas said. “But those crackers refuse to even look at a colored woman being violated by a white man as rape. They think all our women are promiscuous and there for the taking.”
Words Thomas said about Ash in yesterday’s car ride reverberated through Kitty’s mind. “He just wants to get into your drawers. He might talk sweet, but most likely he’ll use force.”
Mama and Daddy had always warned that a white man was nothing but trouble. Even though Ash wasn’t one of those white men, Kitty wondered if she could trust him. After all, he was white. And besides, Ash loving her—really loving her—was a fantasy. And even if he did—they’d never have a real future together.
Kitty tried to convince herself that her fears were irrational. But what if they weren’t? S he hadn’t really known Ash that long. Yet he’d said he wanted to make love to her. Would he have been bold enough to say that if she’d been white? Or was it because she was Negro, he felt no shame in expressing himself so blatantly? Did she not deserve the same respect as a white girl?
Would he resort to force if he didn’t get what he wanted by sweet-talking? Fear gripped Kitty and she almost sliced her hand with the potato peeler. Putting the peeler and the potato down for a moment, Kitty took a deep breath. For the first time, she felt like she didn’t trust Ash. And for the first time, she feared being alone with him.
The knob turned at the back door. Kitty froze. Her heart began beating rapidly. She knew it was Ash. When he walked inside, she didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she picked up the potato and began working industriously to skin it clean.
Slowly, Ash walked to the kitchen table behind her and set down his bag. For a few moments, he didn’t say anything. Kitty felt her chest tighten.
“I missed you this morning,” he said.
Kitty exhaled, relieved that he’d finally spoken. She let out a a small nervous laugh, but still didn’t look at him. “Your mother let us come in late—because of the affair last night. Betty Jean and I—we uh--stayed up late—talking and visiting at Russell’s house.”
Ash walked up behind her. He reached around her
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