Kiss it, sis
"I be dawged if I ever thought I'd see a son of mine cryin' – cryin' – at his own wedding!"
The big man with the Deep South accent was talking to no one in particular, and nobody in particular paid much attention to his complaint. The guests were too busy refilling their plates from the piled-high dishes on the trestle table in the shade of the huge live oak tree.
"Fill it again, Josh!" The big man held his half-empty glass toward an old black man who walked among the guests, lugging a gallon jug. "Bawlin' like a baby!"
The shriveled-up old lady seated in a lawn chair looked at the shapely blonde sitting next to her.
"He! He! He! Ty sure is taking on about Bobby Lee, ain't he?"
"He sure is, Aunt Minerva. Wonder why?" She brushed a long strand of yellow-gold hair back from her face and forked a bite of barbecued pork from her plate. What Sue Robin Forsythe was actually wondering was, what had gone wrong? Her big handsome twin brother had just got himself married to the prettiest girl in town, but instead of grinning all over like a tomcat on the prowl, he had wiped away tears twice during the ceremony. Like her father had said.
She knew her brother like few sisters know their brothers; Buz didn't cry easy. In fact, she could only remember once that he'd cried. That was when they were eleven or twelve years old, and his collie got hit by a truck. Buz had taken his father's shotgun and finished off the suffering creature. Then, while the two of them were digging a grave for the dog, Buz had begun sobbing.
"Well, I guess we won't know for a few days. The honeymooners are honeymooning off somewhere by now. He! He! Sue Robin, would you tell Josh to fix me a mint julep? I can't drink that white lightning straight like your pa."
It was long after dark before the last of the wedding guests left the spacious grounds of Tyrus Forsythe's estate. Sue Robin went upstairs to her room, eager to get out of the flouncy frock and other semiformal clothes she had worn since the midday wedding ceremony. Blue jeans or cut-off shorts were more her style.
Kicking her bedroom door shut behind her, she reached behind her back and quickly unzipped the frock. In a moment it dropped to her feet and she stepped out of it. The half-slip dropped next. She walked over and stood before the wall mirror that reached from the floor to well above her head.