Page 44 of The Deadly Candies

Sandra sat, and Christopher entered the kitchen and sat at the table. Debbie joined them, her face tight with sadness. “Are you girls okay? Did you have a good day, I mean at the bakery and finalizing things?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they both said.

Debbie smiled sadly. She focused on her children. She smiled as Christopher stared at his food, wanting to eat but holding back from saying or hearing grace.

Debbie bowed her head, her hands resting lightly on the edge of the table. The room grew quiet as she began to speak, her voice steady and warm.

“Heavenly Father, we come to You with thankful hearts. We thank You for this food, the hands that prepared it, and the blessings You’ve given us. Lord, we ask that You bless this meal to nourish our bodies and strengthen our souls. Keep us in Your care and guide us as we walk through this life together as a family. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” they all said in unison.

Christopher began to dive in. Debbie smiled. “You’re my baby, my last baby. I would’ve had more, you know. I like babies, I like being pregnant. My babies made me feel like my love for him was real. It kept evaporating, over and over again. But you, you were always here—looking at me with his eyes, giving me his smile, reminding me that we belong together. Because only real love could create all of you,” she said, then looked at Daphne.

“I wanted to talk about this with Junior here. But he has this thing like his father. He can’t be held down. They know when you’re trying to hold them down and make them accept things they don’t want to. They just know. And they’ll give you hell for it.”

“Daddy wasn’t like that. He was good, and kind, and…” Daphne started.

“José wasn’t your daddy, baby,” Debbie cut in.

Christopher stopped chewing. Sandra couldn’t believe her aunt was going to deliver the news like this—so sudden and abrupt, only a day after they buried her mother, or thought they buried her.

Daphne glared at her mother. “He wasmyfather.”

“Listen, baby,” Debbie began.

“He was!” Daphne insisted. “Don’t do this, Mama. Don’t!”

Debbie’s eyes teared. She looked over at her youngest son. He still hadn’t swallowed. She reached to touch his hand, almost fearful of being rejected. But Christopher was a Mama’s boy. He adored Debbie. Sandra could clearly see it. He took his mother’s hand and squeezed it. The relief of acceptance on Debbie’s face almost made Sandra smile. The only reason she didn’t was the pain on her cousin Debbie’s face.

Debbie closed her eyes. “José was my best friend. He saved my life more than once. He gave up his to be your father, and to him, you were his kids. He loved you so very much. Always. Never a day went by when he didn’t love his babies. But José was not your father.”

“The Penny Man is, isn’t he?” Christopher asked.

Debbie opened her eyes and looked over at Christopher. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Why, Mama? Why do this? Why not just leave it alone? We had a father! It wasn’t the Butcher!” Daphne broke down in tears.

“You were so little. So fragile when José… when Matteo… I am so sorry for all the lies. But I can’t live with them anymore. And Matteo loves you. He does. He always has. He wants us back. And I can’t fight him on this because God help me, I want it too. I want a normal family, for all of us.”

“No!” Daphne slammed her hand on the table. “He wants you. Not us. He doesn’t even know us!”

“Baby, you know him. He was there beside José, every holiday, every birthday for you until?—.”

Daphne got up from the table and stormed out of the kitchen. It was the utmost sign of disrespect, but Debbie tolerated it. The front door slammed shut so hard it should have splintered.

Christopher got up from the table and went to his mother, hugging her. Debbie cried hard against his chest. He stroked his mother’s hair. “We been knew, Mama. Everyone in Harlem knows, including Daph and Junior. They just don’t say anything because we all love you. It’s okay.”

Sandra sat at the table, unable to speak or eat. She just sat there.

“Go check on her, Sandy, for me,” Aunt Debbie said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sandra said.

She got up and went outside. Daphne sat on the top step, crying. Sandra sat next to her and put her arm around her. She pulled her in and held her.

“She didn’t have to do it. To say it,” Daphne wept.

“Because you know, Junior knows. You guys always knew, right?” Sandra asked.

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