Page 26
Story: Heaven (Casteel 1)
/> hills. Felt freer than bein some city gal who'd have to lock away all her sexual feelins till she was sixteen or so. Went t'school only three years, hardly ever learned anythin. Didn't like spellin, readin, writin, didn't like nothin but t'boys. Fanny an me, no different. Couldn't keep my eyes offen boys. When I first saw yer son my heart did likkity-splits an flip-flops, an he were a man, almost. I were jus a kid. Used t'go t'all t'barn dances, every last one, an I'd hear yer Toby playin his fiddle, an see yer son dancin with all t'prettiest gals, an somethin deep inside me told me I jus had t'have Luke Casteel or die tryin." Sarah paused and sighed, and when I took a peek in the window, I saw a tear
coursing its way down her reddened face.
"Then there goes Luke off t'Atlanta an meets up
with that city gal, an he ups an marries her. My face,
when I saw it sometimes in mirrors, looked coarse as
a horse as compared t'hers. But didn't make no difference, Annie, it didn't. Married or not, I still wanted
Luke Casteel . . . wanted him so bad I'd do jus anythin
t'get him."
Grandpa was on the porch rocking, whittling,
paying no mind. Granny was rocking, not even
seeming to be listening as Sarah talked on and on.
"Luke, he didn't look at me, though I tried t'make
him."
I kept on scrubbing dirty clothes, keening my
ears to hear better. Near me was a rain barrel full of
frogs croaking. Clothes I'd already washed were
flapping on the line drying. Another peek inside
showed me that Sarah was working near the stove,
cutting biscuits with an inverted small glass, and in
her low monotone she continued as if she had to tell
someone or burst--and Granny was the best kind of
listener. Never asking questions, just accepting, as if
nothing she said would change anything. And no
doubt it wouldn't.
I was all ears, and I kept sliding closer and
closer to the window in order to hear better.
"I hated everythin bout her, that frail gal he
called his angel; hated how she walked an how she
talked--like she was betta than us--an he doted on
her like some jackass fool; tryin t'act fancypants like
Table of Contents
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