Reese rose from her seat and sat in Paul’s lap the way she did when she was a girl. It cut the circulation off to his thighs and made his back ache something fierce. But he made no faces of pain. He only remembered the young girl who had once picked a bouquet for her late mother. He remembered a lot.

“What if I throw up from nervousness?” said Reese. “Like you did.”

“You won’t.”

“Are you gonna give me away, Paul?”

“You better know it.”

Reese kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry I’m leaving you.”

“Quit your sorryin’,” he said. “Besides, I ain’t sorry about anything, except that your mother ain’t here.”

*  *  *

Reese wore a veil of white. Her groom came from a Birmingham family with more money than Father Abraham. It was a well-attended wedding. The church in the heart of the town was alive with cars and people. And onlookers too.

When Paul walked into the vestibule where she stood, he felt his eyes start to leak. Reese looked like something from a storybook. Tall, slender, majestic. She was perfect. And he never felt so ancient in his life. Ruth straightened the train of Reese’s dress, flinging it with both hands.

The music played.

He walked Reese down an ornate aisle covered in wine-colored carpet. And when the preacher said, “Who gives this woman away?” Paul answered, “Me, Your Honor.”

The young groom lifted Reese’s veil and kissed her. And bells rang. And people clapped. And the sounds of happiness abounded. And when the ceremony was over, Ruth approached Paul with her head down. Her red hair was tied in blue ribbons. Her eyes were wet with tears. She was a wreck.

Paul squeezed her so hard he heard her shoulder pop.

“Ain’t your sister beautiful?” said Paul.

But she only looked at Paul and cried. “I’ll miss her so much.” And the violet eyes that used to look back at him with infantile trust still held the same sincerity they always had.

“You know, you look so handsome today, Paul. You know that?”

He kissed her forehead.

“What can I say?” he said with a wink. “When you’re good-looking, you’re good-looking.”

Fifty-One
Men of Fortune

Coot was awoken by a foul smell. The smell of manure. And when he opened his eyes, he saw the source of it. The stare of a black cow, standing only a few feet from him, greeted him. He smiled back at her. She seemed to be curious about him.

The bright morning sun poked through the slats of the fast-moving stock car. The car was jerking back and forth on the tracks, rattling over the landscape. He peeked through the gaps in the wood and saw the rolling hills, the small ponds, and the hamlets dotted with trees.