Heart of a Sister

By Nickey Knighton

This is the sequel to Sisters by Heart you've been waiting for. Heart of a Sister

• Language: English
• Publisher: Manuscripts LLC
• Release date: Nov 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889260080

Book preview

Chapter 1:

Chasity

A true mark of a Georgia Peach is to love tea. For most of us, the sweeter, the better, and I love my grandmother’s homemade sweet tea. Georgia Peaches. That’s what we native-born Georgia girls call ourselves. There was nothing like sitting on my grandparent’s front porch, swinging in the swing, and losing my thoughts in the wide-open space. This is rural Georgia—red clay dirt roads, hot summer nights, fruit trees, backyard gardens, and hydrangeas in the front yard.

My grandparents owned 440-acres of Georgia Pride. Eleven of his ancestors handed the land down to my grandfather, forty-acres at a time. A farmer and a preacher, he remained well-respected in our community for as long as I could remember. Everyone visited him for guidance and advice when needed and to seek a small loan when they ran into financial difficulty.

As a small child, I had the run of the land. For most of my days as a young preschooler, I spent them barefoot and free, connecting with the earth as only a Southern girl could. My nights entailed lying in the green pasture, counting the stars in the wide-open sky above, and catching fireflies in a Mason jar. I was so in love with Georgia nights that I knew I wanted to be a scientist, an astronomer, or an astronaut. When I shared that with my grandmother and explained why, she secretly encouraged me, but when my grandfather heard me expressing such ambitions. He was not impressed and felt compelled to put me in check.

But, Granddaddy, I love the sky. I know all the big stars and constellations. I can be an astronaut or become a scientist like George Washington Carver, I exclaimed. But he was old school and believed women should stay in their traditional roles. In his mind, it was the only way they could find success.

Child, you need to think about being a teacher or a homemaker. I know you want to go to college, so if you go, find a good man who can support you and his family. That’s what good Black men do. They take care of their responsibilities, he would repeatedly respond whenever I got out of my place with him.

To not disrespect him, our conversation typically ended with me nodding in agreement even though I knew he was not right. Repeatedly, something deep within my soul inspired me to speak up, stand up to my granddaddy, and try to make my case with him. I wanted him to see the potential in women, especially in me. I wanted him to acknowledge and encourage my ambition. For some reason, I thought I alone could change his rigid thinking, although I knew it would be like chiseling away at Mount Rushmore with a toothpick.

Granddaddy was old school, and there was no changing him. I believe I scared him, and he thought I was more like my mother than he preferred. He was a product of his environment, growing up the son of sharecropping parents who joined the army to escape the Jim Crow South. He left the segregated South only to be confronted with a segregated military serving in an all-Black regiment during the Korean War. And when the war was over, Black soldiers had no benefits—no housing loans or educational benefits. So, he returned home to the prejudice he knew best.

I thought the world of my grandparents and loved them to no end. Like my grandfather, my mother thought she could find a better opportunity away from rural life. When my mother decided to leave the South and migrate up North, my grandparents embraced her five children—myself and my four brothers, whom my mother left behind—and raised us as their own. My granddaddy considered my mother a failure and was determined to ensure what had happened to her did not occur to their grandchildren.

To say I had a strict upbringing would be an understatement of how Grandpa operated. On the other hand, my granny showed a bit more lenience and encouraged us often but with caution. Why are you always getting your grandpa all wound up, Chasity, telling him ’bout your big ideas for your future? You know he doesn’t think that way. If it were up to him, you would always be right here with me as my helpmate in this house. But you are smarter than most of us around here and have a bright future. Just hush your mouth and keep learning so you can be the first in this family to go to college. You hear me? Grandma declared calmly. Her advice was never meant to be a question but declarations for me to live by.

My early life consisted of family, church, and school. Somehow, I was popular at school despite my conservative dress, awkwardness, and nerdiness. Of course, what I wore to school from the house was only sometimes what I wore all day. I’d saved my allowance to buy a few cute and fashionable outfits and stored them at my best friend’s house, Wendy, for safekeeping. She had no problem loaning me more fashionable attire to sport around campus because she was about the same size as me. Wendy was the most popular girl in our class and probably the whole school. Everyone liked her. Tall and attractive, she had a fabulous body and a bubbly personality that invited conversation. She could talk to anybody about anything.

How do you know so much about so many things? I would ask.

"Girl, I read. I read everything… books, magazines, true stories, harlequins. I even read The Final Call and The Watch Tower when I can sneak them into the house. I have been around the world without ever leaving Georgia, she explained. There’s so much more than our little life right here. I cannot wait to travel to England, France, Kenya, and Zimbabwe. I want to see the Eiffel Tower, go on a safari, climb Mount Kilimanjaro, and see all the world’s wonders."

A combination of funny and cute, Wendy acted so mature in her thinking. I loved hearing her describe faraway places as if she’d been to each. I would graduate from high school as valedictorian, but I wasn’t worldly like my friend. I stuck to the facts of history, science, math, and the spoken word.

As members of our high school’s varsity volleyball team, Wendy and I were forces to be reckoned with. I excelled at volleyball. It was a good outlet from my dull and structured home life. A two-woman show on the court, I anticipated Wendy’s moves, and she mine.

Participating in extracurricular activities proved difficult since I lived miles away in a rural area and caught the bus to and from school daily. My grandparents allowed me to stay with Wendy during volleyball practice and games. My grandfather trusted I was in good hands since Wendy’s grandfather was his minister friend. Unlike my large contingent of siblings, Wendy had only one, a younger brother. Their house was within walking distance of our high school, and they had their own rooms.

One evening we’d had a great game and a big win against our archrival, and I was exhausted. The Force, as they called Wendy and me, were at the top of our game. It was definitely because of us our high school had a winning volleyball team. Everyone throughout our league’s division knew we were the glue that held that team together.

I could not wait to get home to Wendy’s house after the evening game to get a shower, dinner, homework, and a good night’s sleep. Wendy had a full-size bed that accommodated both of us. I was usually asleep within minutes of my head hitting the pillow, but Wendy wanted to talk.

Great game today, G-Force, Wendy complimented.

Couldn’t have done it without you, Shock. Everybody knows we the shit! I responded, and we both laughed.

Wendy and I slept in the same bed together numerous times, but tonight felt different.

I love the way you play the game, she said as she rolled toward me and gently touched my bare shoulder, which was exposed when my nightgown slid down slightly.

Her touch sent a tingle up and down my spine. Before now, sleeping with her had been like being in bed with a sister, but I experienced a different attraction that night. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I held my breath as Wendy moved closer to me. She kissed me first on my shoulder and then on my cheek.

Oh my god. What’s happening here? I thought.

Wendy’s hands cupped my breasts, and without saying a word, she squeezed them affectionally. Not knowing what to do, I froze. She turned my face toward hers and pressed her lips against mine. I kissed her back. After several kisses, she moved away.

Goodnight, G-Force. Goodnight, she whispered.

For the rest of that night, I lay awake, afraid of what might happen if Wendy awakened in the middle of the night. I was worried it might go further than a few kisses. When the alarm when off for school the following day, we both jumped up and got out of bed. Without Wendy knowing it, I packed everything I owned, including extra toothbrushes, and left.

I could not look at my friend at school the next day. I avoided connecting with her at our usual linkup spots and made excuses to be elsewhere. We had volleyball practice after school, but I couldn’t manage the thought of being in the gym with Wendy. After the last bell rang, I walked for the school bus as fast as possible and took the long ride home. That day I decided volleyball would no longer be a part of my high school repertoire.

Wendy came to our church on Sunday with her grandfather, the minister. As was protocol for visiting clergy, her grandfather sat in the pulpit with my granddaddy. That’s what visiting ministers do in the South in support of their fellow men of the cloth. I sat next to my grandmother and siblings in the Amen Corner like we did every Sunday. Then, I saw Wendy seated in the pews with her mother and grandmother.

I must admit Granddaddy’s sermon pierced my soul. It appeared the topic of that sermon came out of nowhere, since most of his speeches were connected and presented in a series-like fashion. But that day was as if he knew, somehow, Wendy and I shared a kiss, and he decided to preach about it.

In his message, Granddaddy proclaimed, Today, I am going to speak about the number one sin in America. In the beginning, God created Adam and Eve. The Lord God Almighty did not create Adam and Steve. He did not create Eve and Evelyn. God created a man and a woman for each other. Man and woman were created to procreate the Earth. To bear fruit together. To birth their children in the image of God. That can only be done with a man and woman coming together to unite with each other. He delivered those words with passion and conviction, and the congregation responded positively.

He went on to say, Homosexuality, they call it. My brothers and sisters, homosexuality is rooted in evil, and the scriptures tell us so. No place in the Bible consecrates, affirms, or acknowledges the union of two persons of the same sex. Homosexual practices are a sin and forbidden by God. Holding his Bible, he said, It is right here in the scriptures. He shouted, It is wrong. Dead wrong. Homosexuality is wrong!

The church shouted in agreement, Amen! Amen, preacher! One of the church sisters, the mother of the choir director, danced and cried in the church’s aisles to the preacher’s words while the pianist played music. Everybody in town knew her son was gay, but she was in denial.

I sensed Grandfather was talking straight to me. It was as if he saw through me and somehow knew I kissed a girl and discerned I enjoyed it.

I truly enjoyed the intimate moment I experienced with Wendy and couldn’t stop thinking about it, but it scared me. I hadn’t even kissed a boy except for cousins when we were playing around. Kissing a girl was sinful. My upbringing included specific values and beliefs, and that went against what I learned to believe. So I distanced myself from Wendy to ensure neither of us would act on our feelings for each other again.

On the following Monday, Wendy confronted me. Chasity, did you tell your grandparents about us? Did you tell them I kissed you?

Of course I didn’t! I exclaimed. I would never do that.

Then why was your grandfather’s sermon on Sunday about homosexuals? she asked concernedly. Was he talking about me?

Of course not. He doesn’t know anything about what happened, I assured her.

So why did you quit the volleyball team? Everyone was asking me what happened to you at practice. Don’t you know we will lose every game without you? You and I make this team, Wendy stated. And everyone notices our friendship isn’t what it used to be. You are my best friend, and I feel like, somehow, I’ve ruined everything.

I’m sorry, Wendy. I wasn’t ready for what happened between us in your bedroom. I was just unprepared, and it brought out feelings I didn’t know I had, I expressed.

So, you felt something too? You have an attraction to me beyond being friends the way I have feelings for you? she asked.

"Wendy, I