Denise Skelton

Author of Contemporary Interracial Romance and Woman’s Fiction

 

My Angel

Prologue

 

November 2004

 

 

Matt let himself into his parents’ home with the same key he’d used since he was 9 years old. He walked through the house, heading toward the kitchen.

“Hey, Ma. Hey, Pop.” Even his greeting had not changed.

Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, he took a bite and sat down at the kitchen table. His mother smiled at him. Standing, she moved to the cabinet to get a plate for him. “Hey. Did you have dinner yet?”

“No ma’am, I can wait till I get home.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Wendy’s waiting for me. We’re going out to dinner, but I wanted to stop by and see you first.” He took another bite from the apple. “So, you said you needed to talk to me about something?”

Marty looked from his son to his wife and back. “Becca, I told you to mind your own business.”

She walked over to the table and leaned on the back of one of the chairs. “Marty, you know I can’t. I can’t just let this go.”

“Can’t let what go?” Matt asked. His mother sighed deeply.

Marty shook his head briskly. “Becca, as much as people say that they do, they really don’t want to know something like this. I think you should just keep quiet.”

“Quiet about what?” Matt asked as the realization of what she was saying slowly crept in.

Rebecca watched her son for a moment, suddenly unsure of her decision. She drew a deep breath. “Marty and I went to the mall today.”

“Becca,” Marty warned.

She waved her hand at her husband as she continued to speak. “And while I was there I saw Wendy.”

Matt watched his mother, waiting for her to finish what she had to say. His stomach turned slightly. He looked at the apple, the sweet flavor in his mouth turning sour.

“She was with another man.”

Matt glanced around the kitchen for a long moment, then he turned back to his mother.

“Okay.”

“What do you mean, okay? Matt, she was with another man. She’s having an affair with him.”

“Ma, how do you know she’s having an affair with him, or anyone else for that matter?”

“You know Rita Winston’s niece, Dawn, who works for Wendy’s friend Gail? Dawn said that she saw Wendy at Gail’s house with another man, and she was hugging him and she even kissed him. Not a friendly peck on the cheek either. A real kiss.”

“Ma, I wouldn’t put too much stock in anything Mrs. Winston has to say.”

“But I saw her with my own two eyes. They were holding hands ... her and this man.”

“Did you talk to her? Did you bother to ask her who he was? It could have been anyone ... a family member or someone she went to school with.”

Marty grunted, looking at his wife. “Told you so.”

 

 

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