She was sitting in her rocking chair on the front porch when Alexandria and PJ arrived. Seeing her great-great-granddaughter in visions was one thing, but being face-to-face with her in the living, breathing flesh was a completely different experience. Allene could clearly see a lot of herself in the young woman. Other than the fact that Alexandria’s complexion was light caramel color and Allene’s was a deep onyx hue, they both possessed the same impressive height, distinctively squared shoulders, thick hair, and keen facial features that nearly everyone in the Small family had inherited from Susan Jessup, the beautiful young slave girl with the gift of prophecy who was the backbone of their very existence. As Alexandria walked up the steps to the large wrap-around porch, she paused and looked directly at the rocking chair where Allene was sitting. “Is everything all right?” PJ asked. Alexandria smiled wide. “Yes, everything is just fine. That’s my grandma Allene’s rocking chair, and before her, it belonged to her grandmother, and her mother, a woman named Susan Jessup,”
