The Wedding Read Free Page A

get mad too much, they call Daddy ‘nigger.’”
    It was a harsh word, an ugly word, a word that no one had ever heard her say. But she had to say it for Tina’s sake. She could trust Muffin not to want a mother. But she was beginning to be doubtful of Tina, who was seeing too much of next door’s mother. Tina didn’t know what mothers were like when they were crying mad. She had been too little to remember—just as Barby had been too little to understand.
    Lute said carefully, “Sometimes mothers say things when they’re mad that they’re sorry for when they’re not mad.”
    But the children were not comforted. Muffin had clutched his arm while Barby was speaking, and Tina, even inside the nest of Lute’s knees, moved uneasily. They were frightened by the forbidden word. Barby had heard their mothers say it. No wonder Barby didn’t like mothers. Muffin screwed up her face in utter rejection of this species of woman. Tina tried hard to but somehow couldn’t. The image
of
next door’s mother intruded.
    Next door’s mother never cried. Whenever she looked at Tina, she smiled. Whenever she spoke, she said words that were loving. Every day she gave Tina a hug and a kiss, sometimes more than one, sometimes more than two. Tina had spent the shining summer in breathless expectancy of this ritual.
    The children next door were only oblique excuses for going over to visit. Barby was scornful of them because they were boys who pulled her braids. Muffin beat them with her fists when they dangled her dolls out of reach and made hersay please. But Tina pretended that boys were fun to play with, although she was terrified if they played rough.
    The way to heaven was not always easy, but getting there was worth the bumps and bruises. For next door’s mother came to comfort. She was soft and round. To lean against her felt so different from Daddy. It felt safe, as if she could sink so deep into that warm and breathing softness that she would be hidden forever from everything that frightened her.
    Next door’s mother said Tina was the little girl she had always wanted until she gave up trying. It was plain that boys were not what she wanted. When she hugged them, they giggled silly and wriggled away. Tina didn’t. She stood very still, mute and malleable. Time after time Tina got an extra hug from the love left begging by the boys.
    Next door’s mother had found Tina after she stopped trying. It was funny how things happened. It was wonderful how things happened. There never was a summer that had kept so many promises.

C HAPTER T HREE
    M uffin suddenly burst out laughing. “Look at Jezebel,” she squealed, doubling over with delight.
    They looked at Jezebel. She was picking her way across the park, walking slowly and sedately, with a large, unwieldy pancake suspended from her mouth. Presently she stopped, lifted one paw, and scanned the park for spies. Then she carefully put the pancake down and dug a hole beside it.
    It was her morning custom to make the round of the cottages. As the only female dog in the Oval, she could walk across lawns and scratch on screen doors without fear of being chased by the males whose province she was invading. That she was old and spayed and oblivious to their overtures did not lessen their appreciation of her presence amongthem. She was a diversion from their daily squabbles, and her favors, such as they were, were impartial.
    Jezebel took everything that was offered her and buried everything that wasn’t a bone. What pleased her palate she ate on the premises. The rest she carried to the park. That she accepted, even begged for, what she did not want was greed. That she saved room in her stomach for what she did want was good planning.
    The Coles place was her favorite and final stop. Having lost their old dog the winter before, the Coleses were partial to Jezebel. They did not give her table scraps; they gave her solid chunks of meat. Even in her own home Jezebel did not have it that