The Sisters of Glass Ferry. Kim Michele Richardson

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СКАЧАТЬ the twins asked, and looked at each other, incredulous.

      “I sure hated telling Honey Bee she’d turned him down.” Mama frowned.

      “But what did he say, what did he do?” Patsy needled.

      “He never said a word. Not a one. Not a peep.”

      “What happened, Mama?” Flannery pushed.

      Mama chuckled. “Well, he wore himself out walking. I do remember that much.”

      “Walking?” Patsy and Flannery puzzled.

      “Walking.” Mama grinned. “Walked himself the three miles to and three miles back—six miles total—all spiffed up in his Sunday suit, twice a week for a month, just to attend Miss Little’s Bible studies. Walked himself silly, and wore out those shiny new shoes of his, and nearly knocked the nails off his toes.”

      The girls laughed.

      “He went to all of them,” Flannery said, admiringly.

      “Attended every single one,” Mama said. “The next thing I knew, Honey Bee’d hiked the five miles over to my house. He pounded boldly on our door and handed my daddy the permission slip.”

      “Did Gramps run him off?” A wide-eyed Patsy waited.

      “Don’t you know Daddy took one look at Honey Bee’s busted shoes and right away gave his blessing. I knew right then I’d marry that boy. I’d walk barefoot across Kentucky to have a man as fine as your daddy.” Mama dabbed at her watery eyes. “Still got that old paper tucked inside my cedar chest with the quilt Miss Little made us for a wedding present.”

      Patsy and Flannery smiled, proud of their parents. The one living, and the one not.

      “How was the dance, Mama?” Patsy asked.

      “I promised Honey Bee the dance would be divine.” Mama smiled a little dreamily as if it was happening all over again. Right then and there.

      “And?” the girls chorused.

      “And we danced, is all.” Mama took another drink of her cola, flicked at a tiny crumb on the table. “Danced the jitterbug and the Black Bottom like nobody’s business,” she said matter-of-factly. “It was all divine. A real gasser as they say.”

      “Gasser,” Patsy and Flannery sang out and giggled.

      “Well, it was. The dance was,” Mama said.

      “Did you let him kiss you?” Flannery propped her chin on her fists and leaned in closer to the conversation.

      “Oh, hush. Your daddy was a gentleman.” Mama shook a finger at Patsy. “A fine gentleman, and I expect nothing less from your Mister Danny Henry. Now drink your colas, girls.” She fanned away the discussion with smiling eyes.

      * * *

      Now that the prom was finally here, Patsy wondered whether Danny would have agreed to Bible studies if the old teacher had turned him down. Worried how far he would’ve walked for her. More, would he still be willing to walk for her after tonight? Patsy was sure she was about to find out if he was a fine one like their Honey Bee.

      Flannery leaned over, bumping Patsy’s shoulder to grab a ribbon off their vanity.

      “I’m sorry Wendell didn’t ask you, tadpole,” Patsy said. “Miss Little would’ve said yes. Mama too.” Patsy knew Flannery had waited months, hoping for Wendell Black to ask her out.

      “Yeah,” Flannery said to her twin. “But he has to work too.”

      “That boy’s crazy about you, even if he can’t scrape the words off his tongue,” Patsy said. “At least you’ll get to be with him tonight.”

      “Humph. A fat lotta good that does me.” Flannery grunted softly, taking a chew to the consolation.... “You really think he likes me?”

      “I do.” Patsy pulled out the cubbyhole drawer on her side of their vanity and lifted out a Chicken Dinner candy bar. “Here, tadpole, you can have it,” she told Flannery, feeling a little more sorry her sister was stuck working. Lately, Patsy didn’t have the taste for the candy anyway.

      When Danny went to Lexington with his folks, he’d always save his nickels to buy Patsy the expensive candy. Not made out of chicken, but a scrumptious chocolate-covered nut roll, and Patsy’s favorite. She held out the Chicken Dinner bar with the roasted chicken on its blue and gold wrapper.

      “Patsy”—the girls’ mama poked her head into the bedroom—“don’t forget these.” She dangled an old string of pearls.

      “Gramma’s pearls.” Flannery jumped off the bed, rushed over to her mama, and reached for them.

      Jean Butler pulled back her hand. “You know these belong to your sister, baby girl. Firstborn gets the pearls, and the second child gets the wedding quilt,” she gently admonished.

      “No fair.” Flannery flipped back her braid. “She was born only eight minutes before me, Mama. Only eight little min—”

      Mama draped an arm across Flannery’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Come on. Behave.”

      “A quilt, a stupid coverlet. Can’t wear a stupid quilt.” Flannery sulked.

      “You’ll have Daddy’s business one day,” Patsy pointed out. “Same as his watch.”

      “Small chance of that happening now that you and Mama sold his stills,” Flannery snipped.

      “But you got his recipe books,” Patsy said, relieved Mama had rid the family of the old whiskey distillery, got rid of almost every trace of Honey Bee’s business. That was the first thing Mama did when he died. “And look what that old female did with just a pile of recipes, tadpole. It made her famous—”

      “I’m not Catherine Carpenter. And, he meant for us both to have his secrets,” Flannery reminded, dismissing the famous Kentucky pioneer. “But he knew only one of us would be doing the work. And ’sides, you told Honey Bee you didn’t want anything from the whiskey—still, you got his gun that belonged to that old outlaw.” Flannery rubbed the leather band on the timepiece her daddy had passed to her.

      Patsy wrinkled her nose.

      “Please, girls. No bickering,” Mama scolded. “Let’s not bring up sadness on such a beautiful day. Whiskey is not a proper business for ladies. You’ll be sixteen—young ladies in a few weeks. And I’ve decided today’s the day. Flannery, you can go get your quilt out of the hope chest, and Patsy”—smiling, she handed her eldest-daughter-by-eight-minutes the pearls—“you’ll want to wear these to your big dance.”

      “Thank you, Mama,” Patsy said, embracing the pearls, pinning them to her chest. Although old, the pearls were gems. Something precious to add to her beauty. The teen had been waiting for those family jewels ever since she had toddled around in them while wearing her Mama’s prized periwinkle-blue church heels that Honey Bee’d brought her back from New Orleans. Now finally the pearls were hers.

      “Who needs fancy gems for soda-jerking СКАЧАТЬ