“Jennifer had saved one from the clutches of Little Wayne and presented it to Shannon earlier. It was a beauty, with touches of pink and yellow on the skin. “Go sit on the porch and eat it like a Jamaican,” her hostess had ordered her. Five minutes later, Shannon had changed out of her work clothes and was sitting in one of the rocking chairs on the verandah, a plate on her lap to catch drips. She stripped off the mango’s skin with her teeth, working her way around in a circle, and bit into the ...flesh. When Shad had taught her once how a real Jamaican ate a mango, he’d had to wipe her nose so she could breathe. As she chewed, the journalist thought about Katlyn, and how she’d gotten deeply into the Jamaican countryside and culture. Surely she must have loved mangoes. She’d learned the folk dances, would have learned patois in Gordon Gap, probably enjoyed the island’s food. Thoughts and questions about Katlyn had begun to sit with Shannon, along with a growing respect for the woman’s values.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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